Little Red's Fairy Tales: Book 1
by Apple and Kiwi
Summary: [SLASH] Wicked fairies, gender confused princesses and a perverted Wolf. Oh, my. Poor Red. Looks like his misery in the land of Fairy Tales has just begun.
1. Red's Chores

This tale begins, as most tales tend to begin, in that age old cliché manner.

_Once upon a time, there lived a youth in a cottage in the middle of a great forest..._

His name was Red Reaper (or Red Inlaw on his father's side or Red Muffet on his mother's--it really depends on who you ask and whether or not they were actually lucid when you did so) and he lived a fulfilling life. Although orphaned, he had a loving godmother who took care of him and loved him as her own. He was a wonderful cook who had a quaint little business where he baked delicious pastries and personally delivered them, wearing a lovely red cloak wherever he went. It was often the reason why he was called 'Little Red Riding Hood'. Or Little Red Riding Reaper, as it were, for his name was known far and wide and his pastries a demanded commodity. But all was not as it seemed with young Red. If one looked far enough, however, it became fairly clear that he was quite normal...

One day, as he was making a soufflé for the Queen of Hearts, his godmother decided to pay him a visit. After the youth had come of age, the old woman rarely called on him, but when she did it was quite...interesting, to say the least. So, just as he was taking the soufflé out of the oven, a loud banging made him jump high in the air and scream for all he was worth. Oh, and ruin his soufflé. It was one of the kinds that could be destroyed by the tiniest of noises uttered at any inopportune moment. His left eye twitching, he slowly turned his brown gaze in the direction of the door.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR, YOU PILE OF BONES! CAN'T YOU SEE I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF A DELICATE SITUATION!"

Death regarded her godson evenly. Not a difficult task for a living personification of a human skeleton, it must be said.

AND WHO TAUGHT YOU TO TALK TO YOUR ELDERS THAT WAY, YOUNG MAN? She asked dryly, raising an eyebrow. This was a rather impressive effect all told, given that she quite distinctly lacked what most folks would consider eyebrows.

Red, who was more than used to these sorts of things, was unimpressed. "You RUINED my SOUFFLÉ!" he informed her, as though that was reason enough for disrespect. He proffered the collapsed confection for her inspection, and she regarded it with mild disinterest.

IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE THAT?

Red glowered, and set the failed soufflé on the stovetop. Of course his godmother would fail to understand the significance of his ruined efforts, seeing as she was the living personification of Death. It wasn't as though _she_ had to eat on a regular basis, after all.

"Why are you here?" he asked, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

DOES A GODMOTHER NEED A REASON TO DROP IN ON HER ONLY GODSON?

Red raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Death made a sound not unlike that of an embarrassed cough. ACTUALLY, IT'S FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK...

Red doubled his glare and waited for what he could only guess would be bad news. "_Yes_?" he inquired, dragging out that one syllable with heavy emphasis to show his displeasure. He crossed his arms and began to tap his foot impatiently, knowing that it would grind on Death's nerves. Shaking her skull, she pulled out a scroll and presented it to the baker. He took the roll of parchment blindly, not moving his disdainful stare from the empty eye-sockets of his godmother. "And this is…?"

ORDERS FOR THE WEEK, AS WELL AS A FEW CHORES I WANT YOU TO DO. Death told him, crossing her own arms. She watched calmly as her godson unrolled the missive and began to read its contents. Moments passed by as Red's expression went from disinterested to passive, from passive to worried, from worried to downright twitchy and from twitchy to downright horrified--a record really. Usually Red stopped at twitchy before going off to do whatever it was he was supposed to do. The 'chores' she usually set him ranged from 'clean the garden' to 'set-up two supernatural beings for Armageddon before Saturday, would you?' Today's task seemed somewhere near 'Armageddon' if his expression was anything to tell by.

Red pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the coming headache he knew was coming. Sometimes he just hated being alive - or, more specifically, being Death's godson. Most would think it a very prestigious title, but truly...it _wasn't_. How many times had he wanted to bash his head against a tree? How many times had he been stuck in bed due to third degree burns from a dragon? And how many times must he be sent to the _Wicked Fairy's _castle?

He had first met with the Wicked Fairy when he was just a little nine-year-old, making his first delivery of asphodel and wormwood from his own private garden of deadly and useful plants. His godmother had been the one to give him the order from the fairy, saying that he and the other were going to be working closely for the next sixteen years or so amongst other things. When he got to the castle, he had been extremely intimidated, frightened of the lightning and thunder that constantly struck and sounded around the dark and gloomy fortress. He'd had the mind to turn tail and run out of there, but the Wicked Fairy had appeared before he could take even a step backward. The rest of that day had been blurred from his memory--with good reason--and the only thing he could really recall about the incident was abject fear.

Now, as an adult, Red wasn't nearly as frightened with Wicked Fairy as he used to be. However, that didn't mean that he did not try to stay away as much as possible. But he knew that when he had a summons sent to him through his godmother, he couldn't refuse...plus he had been avoiding the Wicked Fairy for almost sixteen years now. Karma dictated that he was overdue for a visit. So, all he could really say to his godmother as he crumpled the scroll in his hands was this:

"I hate you so much right now."

If Death could have smiled, she would have had one large toothy grin spanning from ear to ear...that is...if she had ears. She raised a bony hand and stroked Red's black hair placatingly.

I LOVE YOU, TOO, RED. She replied sincerely. She glided over to the coat rack where Red's riding hood was hanging and plucked it off. In a very motherly manner, she put it around her godson's shoulders and began to it tie it up for him. Red glowered at her disdainfully when she began to hum, and kept on it until she was done. He really had no room to complain, though, because if there was one thing she was good at besides reaping the souls of mortals, it was tying cloaks so that no matter what they would not fall off. Death flicked a bit of lint from Red's shoulder and inspected her work. She nodded. ALL RIGHT. TIME TO GO VISIT THE WICKED FAIRY.

"One thing though..." Red said, turning away from the skeleton to go over to where he had set his ruined soufflé. He picked it up and held it in front of Death. "...Can you resurrect this soufflé? I was supposed to get it ready for the Queen of Hearts. And you know how he can be when he doesn't get his food...heads falling here and there..."

Death nodded in understanding. However, she refused to resurrect the soufflé for two reasons. One, she couldn't _revive_ a pastry. It simply wasn't done. Very rarely could she ever expand the lifespan of a living person and even then, that sort of thing very, very, _very_ rarely ever happened with her. Never mind resurrection. And two, if she _did_ resurrect it, she couldn't see how it would matter all that much anyway. It was _food_ for goodness' sake. It might become sentient. And the last thing she felt like doing was reaping a sentient soufflé.

_NO._

And with that, Death left just as swiftly as she had come--by banging the door very loudly and scaring the furry locals with her presence while destroying all other pastries in her wake (mainly Red's delicate strawberry tarts that suddenly went from sweet to sour). Red sighed. It was going to be one of those days.

It didn't take him long to gather the items the Wicked Fairy had requested. One or two of them were so common-place, in fact, that as he carefully packed each article in his basket, he wondered why the Wicked Fairy had even bothered to request he bring them at all. But of course, as soon as he thought _that_, he realized that there was no doubt a _very_ good reason for it, and one he wouldn't like at all.

"Damn Fae," he muttered under his breath.

To distract himself, he began working out a suitable excuse to use on the Queen when the time came to explain why he had neglected to deliver the requested soufflé in a timely manner.

It is perhaps telling of the sort of person that Red is that he didn't even for a moment consider telling the truth. The simple explanation that his godmother had suddenly appeared in his home with all the subtlety of a rampaging dragon and subsequently flattened an otherwise perfectly good soufflé would no doubt have been happily accepted by the Queen, but...it was just far too easy.

No, a brilliant mind like Red's needed exercise now and again, and making up plausible fabrications about untrue events was just the sort of mental exercise he enjoyed the most.

Hypothetical cogs working away in his mind, Red settled the last of the requested items in his basked and closed the lid. Glancing up to the window out of habit, he noted that the strawberry tarts he had baked earlier that morning were cool, so he reached up to pull them down from the window sill. As he settled the last of the confections on the counter and pulled the window shut, he sniffed. Very slowly, he blinked, and looked down at the pastries he had lined up on the counter. They stared back innocently...or as much as an inanimate baked good can, in any event.

Eyes narrowed, Red pinched a tiny crumb from the corner of one of the tarts and brought it to his mouth. He was hard pressed to avoid making a face as what he tasted registered in his brain.

"_Bloody Hell!_"

Catching up his basket, Red stormed angrily from his cottage. He slammed the front door behind him expertly, causing the sign hung in the window of said door to flip over so that it read "Sorry, We're Closed" to any who might bother to take a look.

The forest that Red had called his home for over twenty years was a clichéd one. And that meant lots of cute little animals, tall trees and lots of enchantment. Not that he actually stopped once in a while to notice, but he did take note of the things underfoot in case he stumbled on a stump. Or a gnome. Or an enchanted rock. Or an enchanted rock gnome who lived inside a stump. It was an enchanted forest after all. However, it boggled his mind trying to figure out who in the world decided it was funny to name it the 'Fluffy Forest of Forbidden Fruits'. Then again, perhaps the ridiculous name was the reason why so many people never entered his territory, afraid of being bored to death with all the tame little bunnies and little deers looking for their mothers.

At any rate, he had to hop, skip and jump through the forest in order to get out, lest the Demon of Not-Quite-Evil-Intentions-and-Sickeningly-Sweet-Manners decided to pay him a visit for not being sweet while inside his forest. No one knew where this demon had sprung from, but he was one no one crossed. The few times Red had crossed paths with this demon he had twenty cavities that had to be fixed by the Tooth Fairy (who was more of a fruit than most fairies were) who only took cases by appointments...which meant waiting for a month before any of his teeth could stop aching.

Once out of the forest and onto open road, he was relatively safe. Relatively.

"Hello, Red,"

Red sighed inwardly. The Ironic Overpower must really be out to get him today.

"Wolf," he acknowledged, glancing briefly at the tall man who fell into step beside him. The Big Bad Wolf, a rather deceptively named man in his early thirties, grinned...well, wolfishly.

"And where are you off to, my bonnie lad? Visiting dear Grandmamma?"

Red snorted. "Don't I wish. What do you want?"

"What makes you think I want anything?" Wolf asked, the very picture of astonished innocence. Or as innocently astonished as a man dressed head to toe in stylish black leather can appear, at any rate.

Red rolled his eyes and began walking slightly faster. He'd never been on very good terms with Wolf, and after that whole exploding pie fiasco a few years ago, he was fairly sure his name was at the top of the man's 'Revenge with a Flourish' list..

"Why won't you tell me where you're going? I probably know a short-cut..." Wolf continued after a few moments of silence, shoving his hands nonchalantly into the pockets of his tight leather trousers. Red sighed.

"I'm going to the Wicked Fairy's place. Have to deliver some things," he said, shifting his basket slightly in the crook of his arm as he spoke.

"Oo-er, the Wicked Fairy, eh? Funny thing about that..."

Red sighed again. A lot of people enjoyed saying that particular line to him. He looked up at the man, glaring at him with all of his might. "Let me guess," he began, "you have something of particular interest involving the Wicked Fae as well, I presume? How much should I bet that you're really only going to try to lure me into a false sense of security so that you can drag me off into some bushes and have your nasty and graphic way with me?" Red had never been very subtle (although, he had always been pretty sneaky) and he never liked to be, just as much as he disliked telling the truth. He watched Wolf's face for any signs of surprise or indignant shock, but none appeared.

In fact...Wolf seemed eerily calm. It unnerved the young man in the hood to no end. Had he been a little girl (which he wasn't, but that didn't stop many people from thinking he was), he would have given a girlish scream and then run off...or fainted, or whatever it was that damsels did these days. And then, to Red's relief, he gave the younger man a grin. A wolfish grin that could only mean 'impending doom' or 'impending molestation'.

He hoped it was impending doom.

"I _do_ happen to have...er...a bit of business with the Wicked Fairy myself, as a matter of fact," Wolf responded, oblivious to Red's doom-ful thoughts. "So perhaps I'll just tag along, since we seem to be going in the same direction. If you don't mind, that is."

Red minded. _Oh _how he minded. But he knew from past experience that there was really nothing he could say to discourage Wolf from following along beside him (which was better than _behind_ him, admittedly). Sadly, there was also nothing that he could _do_ at this point in time to get rid of his unwanted company, so he would have to bide his time and be plotful, sneaky, and just a little bit wily if he wanted to ditch his unwelcome hanger-on. Sometimes it was a major pain in the ass being a short, girly sort of man. Especially when _other_ men attempted to make the transition from figurative pains to literal ones.

Mostly, though, what he regretted the most was his lack of physical strength when it came to beating someone to within an inch of their lives when they got on his nerves.

Ah, well...at least there was always poison.

And explosives. _Lots_ of explosives.

Not that Red was very good at making bombs or anything, but if his exploding pies from his youth were anything to go by, then he might possibly be able to get rid of his...Red stared. Well, not 'furry companion', that was for sure. What metaphor was he supposed to use? 'Leathered'? Was that even a word? Either way, maybe he could slip some poison into Wolf's drink or plant some sort of explosive pastry in his trousers...if he could force himself to get near enough to the perverted wanker to stick anything down there in the first place, that was.

He stared a bit more. Good gravy. Was he _happy_ to see him? Becoming the colour of his namesake, he adamantly averted his eyes before he got a terrible nosebleed. He mumbled something about indecent people and their trousers and several anatomically impossible suggestions for things said people could do to their trousers. Which was just cruel to the poor things. They, after all, could not choose their masters like magic wands could...unless they were an enchanted pair of pants, but who in their right mind would want enchanted pants? Or wear them?

But Red had to admit that his mind was digressing too much from the matter at hand. He just had to admit that Wolf's pants were just too tight to be decent. And that it truly sucked to be a girly little man at times. And he needed to plan.

On the journey to the Wicked Fairy's home they would pass by Wonderland and the Sleeping Forest before reaching the base of the Wicked Fairy's home. From between his current position and the Fortress of Half-Evil (often mistaken for the Fortress of Half-Elven which is actually all the way in the opposite direction some miles south of Toy Land, and ruled by the Good Elf), he had to find a means of ridding himself of Wolf before he caused any trouble for him. Even if he disliked the nightmare-inducing fairy very much, the meddling interloper in black leather was, in Red's estimation, far worse.

As Red plotted the end of the Big Bad Wolf, cackling like an old witch, Wolf's thoughts were elsewhere, though his amber eyes were set on a very predictable place next to him. He carefully studied the young man he accompanied; watched as the red cloak flowed easily behind his small body, his left arm holding the basket of only goodness knew what in the crook of his elbow, and his right foot--

"Waaaaaaah!" Red yelped, caught off guard, and fell flat on his face.

--catching on a rock. He did not bother to hide his grin as he beheld the sight before him.

Unfortunately for Red, his long, red cloak had flipped up as he fell to cover his head and shoulders as he lay, spread-eagle, on the ground. Wolf smirked with barely contained glee as he looked down at the delectable morsel spread out for him, no doubt by the kind act of some benevolent deity who had Wolf's best interest firmly in the forefront of his or her heart. Red had such a cute, trim little waist, covered as it was in the most delightful little black shirt. And right below the snug little waist was the most adorable little tush covered in a very nice pair of clingy black pants...oh, the things he'd like to do to that tush...

Wolf pouted briefly as Red sprang to his feet, knocking his cloak back into place and dusting himself off with great dignity. The pout changed to a smirk, however, when the smaller man sent a withering glare in his direction.

"Shut. Up." Red growled.

"I didn't say anything!" Wolf once again adopted an expression of injured innocence. Red merely glowered a moment more before catching up his basket, turning on his heel and stalking off down the road. Wolf grinned and trotted to catch up. He may have a personal vendetta against Red for the whole pie incident a few years back, but that wouldn't stop him in the least from enjoying the view on his way to sweet, sweet revenge.

Of course, he'd be enjoying the view as he extracted his sweet, sweet revenge as well, but that, he thought smugly, ought to go without saying.

Red was quite aware of the direction of Wolf's thoughts, though he shuddered to guess at the specifics. In an effort to turn his mind to other things, he began working out a plan to get the leather-clad voyeur off of his back so that he could complete his delivery in relative peace. His best bet, he figured, was to get rid of the man somewhere in Wonderland.

Continuing with that train of thought, he realized that he now had the perfect excuse to give the Queen of Hearts when he explained about the unfortunate soufflé – he would blame it on Wolf! And, since he had the perpetrator with him, of course the benevolent queen would insist upon having the man's head.

They traveled together from then on with a relatively small amount of hijinks. Although Red was very sure that the older man had been staring at his posterior more than he should be. He was sickened and appalled. Honestly, even if he was twenty-five years old, he could still pass for a teen or even younger for that matter. He was sure that everyone around him was a closet pedophile, especially that Wicked Fairy. How he was going to dread meeting the fairy once he was rid of the wolfish man.

---------

"So, this is Wonderland." Wolf said, rather unnecessarily, staring at the large, red, heart-shaped gates before them.

It was more than he expected.

From behind the gates that separated Wonderland from the rest of the world he could see the large, chessboard-like land complete with sixty-four squares. Each square was filled with different types of terrain, none of which logically belonged together. Bits of forest bordered deserts, while swampy bogs might reside happily alongside prairie-like meadows. He could see the two large castles, home to the Red and White Queens, as well as the card palace in the center of it all that belonged to Wonderland's one and only ruler, the Queen of Hearts.

Now, the Queen of Hearts had quite the reputation that preceded himself. Yes, _him_self. The reason that he was called the Queen of Hearts was not so much for the fact that he dressed in flowing gowns and jewels like a woman did (though it did contribute), but because he actually _insisted_ upon it, unable to decide on being a King or a Queen. The Queen--also, sometimes known as the King--liked the benefits of both gender roles. Unfortunately, however, his indecisive nature often made him quite confused. One day he could be the tyrannical Queen, the next day, the indecisive, yet docile King. One could guess which most folks preferred. As the feared tyrant of Wonderland, it was very well known that he had a very nasty temper that usually ended with heads rolling. Literally.

This duel temperament of the Queen's was a very well known fact amongst the travelers who passed the Wonderland gates. However, they say that sweets make a sweet man, and Red had been making regular deliveries of soufflés, tarts, pies and cakes in order to keep him that way. If not for the kingdom, then for his own head. Even though he was Death's godson and, therefore, quite used to seeing people die, he was still very insistent that he live long enough to see his own grandchildren.

Wolf, who was aware of the Queen's schizophrenic tendencies but not sure what kept them at bay, was very apprehensive and hesitant to enter Wonderland as freely as Red did. But he did so anyway, emboldened by the smaller man's confident strides, though not exactly possessed of that same self-assured confidence himself.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather go around? I was serious about that short-cut, y'know," Wolf said, trying not to sound too nervous.

"Quite sure. I have a delivery for the Queen, and it's quite high priority," Red lied smoothly, unable to prevent the barest hint of a satisfied smirk from creeping along his features. "You're welcome to take off on your own, of course. I won't stop you."

To his credit, Wolf did seriously consider splitting off with Red--maybe catch up with him on the other side of Wonderland so as to continue to annoy him--but he figured that that was probably exactly what Red wanted. Besides, who knew how long the small man would decide to dilly-dally within the Queen of Hearts' domain? Granted, he did have a delivery to make to the Wicked Fairy, so he certainly wouldn't take _too_ incredibly long, but... In the end, Wolf decided that it would probably be more fun for him if he remained with Red, despite his misgivings about the kingdom they were traveling through.

Besides, it had been far too long since he'd had such a good opportunity to properly ogle the man, and he was damned if he was going to pass this one up.

Red strode confidently through the chessboard-kingdom, secure in his knowledge of impending assistance from the Queen. Wolf walked quietly beside him, feeling rather vulnerable but not minding too much because of the sweet bit of eye-candy whom he accompanied.

The walk to the card castle was made reasonably swiftly – the roads in Wonderland were in fairly good condition, and Red was a fast walker. He had to be, if he wanted to deliver fresh pastries to his customers while they were still, well..._fresh._ Wolf, having the advantage of over a foot of height on Red, had no problem keeping up with his long, lean, leather-clad legs.

Damn, but he looked good in these pants. He wondered if Red had noticed. Probably. Wolf smirked. The little vixen _tried_ to play innocent, but Wolf knew that underneath that carefully cultivated layer of naïveté lurked the mind of an adult man – an adult man with needs and desires, no matter how vehemently he tried to deny them. It would just take a bit of work (preferably involving a whip, handcuffs, and an unspecified amount of chocolate syrup) to get the young man to give in to his baser needs. Oh, what fun he would have then!

Red sneezed once, and rubbed his nose in irritation. He hoped he wasn't coming down with something. Illness in his profession was not exactly conducive to business, after all.

The card castle loomed ever closer as Red and Wolf walked in relative silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

Traversing Wonderland was a very sticky business, as the land had a mind of its own. Jumping and dancing was sometimes required. If one were to try and run quickly, one would get nowhere; however, if one walked too slowly one would still get nowhere and everywhere at the same time. And, if one paid too close attention to where one was going, one was more than likely to wind up in the Jabberwocky's cave than anywhere else.

Both Wolf and Red went through the peculiar land together at a brisk pace, and avoiding the hidden dangers of the deceptively silly place. Once or twice they accidentally brushed up against one another whilst fleeing some particular danger that loomed out of the incongruous scenery. Wolf grinned in a pleased manner each time, while Red frowned in irritation, but otherwise indicated only necessity in his actions. Quite soon, the gates of the card castle stood before them and opened readily the moment Red stepped forward.

The red cloaked man's mind was a titter with excitement at the prospect of finally losing his old antagonist. But before they actually entered the Queen's Court, there was something he had to say first. Putting his basket down in a calm manner next to the door he stood in front of Wolf and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him down so that they could see eye to eye. Wolf had almost stumbled onto him (not that it wouldn't have been nice), surprised by the sudden contact and the proximity of their faces. They were almost nose to nose, and could see the colors of each other's eyes. They were so close, in fact, that if he bent down just a tad further he could have kissed...

The leather clad man yelped in pain as the younger man's hands let go of his jacket collar to take hold of both of his cheeks in what felt like a vice-grip. Fingers pinched hard and stretched his face so that any thought of kissing the other flew from his mind. "Whass are whoo doin'?" he demanded, his words slurred and distorted.

Red gave him a look. "Listen up, you pervert. I have a reputation to uphold here..." He pinched Wolf's cheeks harder at this. "...So either you pretend that I am just a sweet little girl heading to Grandma's house with a basket of goodies, or I will do so much worse than the exploding pies."

Wolf briefly entertained the hope that Red's 'worse than exploding pies' threat might somehow involve handcuffs and whipping cream, but one look into the younger man's angrily glaring brown eyes forced him to concede that that was probably not the case.

After all, he might be an over-sexed, slightly psychotic gentleman's man, but he wasn't _stupid_.

"Fine, fine," he mumbled. Red narrowed his eyes speculatively for a moment, then released Wolf's cheeks. Wolf rubbed his face and sulked momentarily, but brightened as he watched Red bend over to pick up his basket. His expression had returned to his usual self-satisfied smirk when one of the Queen's pages approached and informed them that the Queen was waiting for them.

Red trotted after the page with one last warning glare at Wolf, who returned the glower with a look of injured innocence. After waiting for a few moments to give Red a proper head-start, Wolf followed after, smirking once again as he made the most of this latest advantageous turn of events. Red really did have the most delectable little rear-end--it was a shame he insisted on hiding it behind that cute little cape.

The doors to the throne room where the Queen received his guests were already open, as it was the middle of the day and the Queen always had plenty of guests, despite his unfortunate schizophrenic tendencies.

The throne room itself was a grand (if slightly tacky) sight to behold – the Queen of Hearts was very fond of the heart motif, and it showed in the way he decorated. Tapestries, pottery, carpets, wall-hangings – every available surface sported at least one highly stylized heart, and most had more. Red, who was used to the throne room by now, took no notice. Wolf, on the other hand, was hard pressed to keep from gagging at the inherent girly-ness of it all.

"Little Red Riding Reaper and The Big Bad Wolf to see the Queen of Hearts," some random dignitary whose job was to announce things announced.

The Queen, resplendent in a red velvet gown which was tastefully embroidered with gold hearts about the edges and trim, stood with a flourish to welcome his favorite baker.

"Red, my dear!" he gushed. "It's been far too long! Did you bring the soufflé I asked for?"

"Actually, about that..."

Red stepped forward and threw himself down before the Queen's feet, grasping onto the hem of his skirts, and began to sob wretchedly. It took everyone by surprise, including Wolf, who watched the scene unfold with suspicious familiarity. He had witnessed something almost exactly like this once upon a time and he was getting the feeling that he knew exactly how 'this' was going to turn out. He gulped. He was in trouble.

"Your Majesty! Please accept my most sincerest apologies!" Red wailed, trembling with sobs and tears. It was an absolutely pitiful sight. The Queen, worried about his favorite baker, knelt and held the red hooded young man in a maternal embrace--which, admittedly, worried the entire court. That sort of behavior usually meant that he was slowly switching back to being the most horrendous and awe inspiring tyrant Queen. The lack of sugar was already beginning to take its toll. Inside, Red smirked, for he had counted on the lack of sugar to help his current cause of being rid of Wolf once and for all. "Please, please don't be upset!" he begged.

The Queen cooed at him, taking out a handkerchief--motifed with hearts, naturally--and began to tenderly wipe away Red's crocodile tears. "There, there sweet child. Whatever is the matter?"

"I...I...should have told you...e...earlier, but I didn't want to have to involve anyone, bu, but..." Red let out a well-practiced wail, covering his face with his hands and beginning to weep like a wilting flower. Sometimes, it paid off to be girlish and small. It made his acts so much more convincing. "Oh, it was so brutal! That fiend--" He pointed an accusing finger at Wolf (who innocently pointed at himself and asked, "Me?"). "--violates me every day."

Everyone in the court gasped.

"Repeatedly and constantly!"

They gasped some more.

"The screaming, the sweating! The agony of losing one's innocence!"

All right, he was laying it on a bit thick, but he was very satisfied when a few people fainted dead away in their seats.

"I tell him to st-stop! I had deliveries to make...things to bake...but every day he comes back and he touches me in places...makes me call him 'father' and 'eat bananas' and spanks me horribly if I don't do as he says! I can barely sit down for all the pain!"

Many eyes of the court--especially the Queen's--all turned as one and bore into the Big Bad Wolf, who was doing his very best impression of horrified indignation at the accusations made against him. Sure, he _fantasized_ every day about it, but really!

"And every day...I have to...let him do what he wants so that I can bring your order on time! But today...I was so late, I did not know what to do, and when he appeared...he ruined your most precious soufflé before my very eyes! He was so displeased he violated me worse than ever! On my table! Devouring every inch of me! Oh! I shall never be able to marry!" He gave another pathetic wailed and continued to shed tears into the Queen's bosom--er--chest. Shoulders shaking and body trembling, he mentally celebrated, for Wolf was going to be gone!

Wolf just stared. Was he really witnessing what he thought he was witnessing? He swore that he just saw the shadow of a smirk sent his way by the little Hellion. Cute tush or no cute tush--After a stunt like this, Red was going down! But how exactly? The Queen had just called for the guards to 'take care of him', which meant that he had precious few moments left to think up a cunning plan of action. It wouldn't be long before the Queen said--

"OFF WITH HIS HEAD!"

--that. Lovely. What was he going to do? He slowly began to back up as the guards came closer. He gritted his teeth. He was not going to let it end it like this! He still had to get Red back for the incident years ago (and as of mere moments ago, this one as well). Putting a confident expression on his face, he began to stall until inspiration hit him with a plan of action.

"Hey, hey...let's not be hasty." he said placatingly, holding his hands defensively in front of him. "No doubt that I did what I did, and it was very wrong of me to do so..." Many still looked at him in contempt, though Red looked at him questioningly, wondering what he was playing at. "...But I'm quite sure there's more to the story. In fact...I think our dearest Little Red has neglected to tell you something..."

Wolf was making things up as he went along and quite a few of the court officials knew it. However, the Queen was taking quite a bit of interest and called for him to continue as he held Red protectively against him. "And that would be...?" The way the royal trailed off suggested a lot of things, and most of them probably involved dismemberment. Racking his mind, Wolf tried to find something to say. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Well? I'm _waiting_, Wolf." The Queen was beginning to become impatient, and when _that _happened, it usually only took a few more moments to get him angry and when he got angry, heads would roll...literally.

Frightened, Wolf blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

"Red is pregnant with my child!"

At this random proclamation, the guards that had been advancing on Wolf stopped in their tracks and stared. Nobles, officials and other random people who were sipping their beverage of choice at that moment spat it out, spraying the floor and each other with drink. The Queen was in shock, and looked to Red to see if he supported this. And Red? He was so horrified at what Wolf had just said that the only sounds he could force past his lips were just random sputterings coupled with terrified hyperventilating.

"But he--I--and that--what...him..."

It was a situation that Red had not anticipated at all.

Wolf, having randomly blurted out the first thing that came to mind, realized after a moment of thought that it was actually a fairly valid excuse. So he decided to run with it. It wouldn't be the first time his quick wit had gotten him out of a highly distressing situation, and, gods willing, this wouldn't be the last.

"You wouldn't kill the father of an unborn child, would you?" he asked, trying to go for the right tone of genuine concern. It wasn't too terribly difficult - he _was _a rather accomplished actor, after all. If he could convince Red that he was the youth's own dear grandmother, he could convince the Queen of Hearts that he was the father of another man's child. Hopefully.

The Queen was eyeing him thoughtfully, momentarily taken aback by his outrageous exclamation, but also willing to listen. He wasn't entirely immune to the effect of tight black leather, after all, and really, now that he thought about it, it would be a terrible shame to remove such a handsome head from such a fine, manly body...

"I admit that my methods may have been a little...harsh," Wolf continued, falling in with the lie Red had begun. "But it's only because I love little Red so very, very much - I can't help myself, sometimes!" At this point Wolf's eyes began welling up with some crocodile tears of his own, and to the unknowing bystander, the rather disreputable-looking man with the short silver ponytail suddenly appeared to be nothing more than a distressed lover, frightened for his own welfare as well as the welfare of his unborn child.

The effect on the Queen's court was noticeable, to say the least. Many of the courtiers who had been disgusted with Wolf mere moments before suddenly found themselves sympathetic--it wasn't that poor, sweet little Red was in a loveless, terrible relationship after all. No, it appeared as though the two were merely at odds on some of the finer points of their relationship, and that, at the moment, what they were witnessing was merely a lover's tiff.

"Oh! Oh, my dear Red, is this true?" The Queen was completely taken aback by this unexpected declaration.

Red, who was quite flummoxed himself, not to mention humiliated that Wolf would even _dare _to suggest such a thing (conveniently forgetting, for the moment, that it was his own damn fault in the first place), could only stammer dumbly.

"I-I...That is...But-!"

"Oh, dear little Red, this is _wonderful _news!" The Queen, soufflé temporarily forgotten, was now fully back to his usual benevolent self. Still clutching Red about the waist with one arm, he swept down from the dais, dragging Red behind him, and up to the very surprised Wolf, who he throttled with an enthusiastic one-armed embrace (as Red was still firmly contained with the other)

"I'm so happy for you both! How could I possibly begrudge one silly soufflé when one of my nearest and dearest is in such a happy state?"

Red tried to protest, but the Queen had somehow maneuvered him within the three-person hug so that his face was fully pressed into the soft leather of Wolf's black coat.

"I _am_ awfully sorry about the soufflé, your Highness," Wolf apologized, appearing genuinely contrite. A few of the courtiers 'awww'ed when they saw him wrap a loving arm about Red's shoulders. The fact that this only further pinned the youth to Wolf's side and subsequently prevented any protests on Red's part went either ignored or unnoticed. "We would have had time to make another, but we've been called on to deliver some goods to the Wicked Fairy, and that one, as your Majesty surely knows, has no patience at all when it comes to waiting,"

"Oh, that is too _delightful_!" the Queen exclaimed, withdrawing from his embrace of Wolf and Red and clasping his hands together in girlish glee. "You even make deliveries together now!"

"Well, not normally, your Majesty - I am only accompanying my beloved Red today because, to be quite honest, the poor dear is absolutely _terrified _of the Wicked Fairy, and nearly begged me to come along,"

He paused in his monologue for a moment to allow the courtiers a chance to give voice to another 'Awwwww...', which they happily accepted.

"Awwww..."

"Mmmph! Mmmbbmm_mmmph!_" said Red, who was still being held quite firmly yet lovingly against Wolf's chest.

"What's that, my dear? Why, you are right, as always." Wolf turned to the Queen and nodded his head graciously. "As my sweet little love-muffin says, we really must be on our way - the Wicked Fairy waits for no one, or so I've been told."

"Of course, of course!" the Queen responded, bringing a hand to his bosom - er, chest - in sympathy. "Off with you, at once! And please do visit again, when you have the time. I would so love to see you both!"

At the dismissal, Wolf gallantly swept Red into his arms and strode from the great hall, pausing only long enough to retrieve Red's basket from a page, who very helpfully proffered it just as he passed through the doors. The poor beleaguered youth had no chance to protest the abrupt and humiliating turn of events, for he was far too busy trying to catch his breath after having his face pressed firmly into a leather coat for so long. Thus it was that Wolf had carried him completely out of the castle of the Queen of Hearts and quite a fair distance away from it before he had the breath to demand,

"_Put me the hell down, THIS INSTANT!_"

Wolf complied with a smile.

"AND GET YOUR HAND OFF MY ASS!"

Once again, Wolf complied, but not before giving a complimentary squeeze.

Red swatted at Wolf's hands, shouting angrily about indecency and pervertedness so foul that there was not a high enough rating to give to it. His words were very colorful and powerful, but due to the set rating of this story, they have been toned down somewhat so that all may be in awe of Red's insults to his leather clad antagonist.

"...I had never been so humiliated in my entire life! What possessed you to say that I was _pregnant_, you overly sexed, perverted, annoying, voyeuristic, pedophilic old man!"

"Hey, you're the one who cried 'rape'." Wolf pointed out, much to Red's annoyance. He dodged the smaller man as he tried to kick him in the shins. Smirking, he grabbed hold of him in mid-kick and pulled him close in a sort-of embrace. "But since you're already 'taken' by yours truly, why don't we just go ahead and make the rumors that I'm sure will be spreading around about us true?"

Red glared. "I hate you...so much right now."

"And I love you." came the sarcastic reply. "Now let's run off into the moonlight--"

"It's still afternoon, you twit."

"--and live happily ever after!"

Red, in a fit of strength very rare to his small frame, pushed Wolf away and began to stomp off into the direction of the end of Wonderland so he could finish his task already and--hopefully--get on with his life. Somehow the Wicked Fairy didn't seem so bad now that he thought about it. Meeting the fairy seemed a whole lot better than being stuck with his present company. The Big Bad Wolf wasn't so easily deterred, however, and happily went back to walking by the younger man's side.

"So, where to now, my love?" he asked pleasantly. Red growled.

"To the Sleeping Forest."


	2. Through the Sleeping Forest

As the pair made their way along the road to the Sleeping Forest, Red plotted ways to make Wolf's life miserable, while at the same time working out new strategies to get rid of his annoying hanger-on for good. With a bit of luck and clever timing, he might even be able to pull off both at the same time, which would give him no small amount of satisfaction. The only question was, how? There were some incredibly rare and dangerous mushrooms and berries growing in the Sleeping Forest...perhaps he could somehow trick Wolf into eating something...

Wolf was also, for the most part, lost in his thoughts. Instead of working out various ways to get rid of Red, however, his thought process was bent more to contemplating the mysteries of the universe, which, in his mind, really boiled down to only one question:

Does Red wear boxers or briefs?

Surreptitious glances at the region below the younger man's waist did nothing to help him solve this most mysterious of mysteries. Red's trousers, though certainly not what one could term 'loose' by any stretch of the imagination, were also not incredibly tight. This held well for Wolf's boxer theory, though the red-cloaked youth could also just as easily be wearing briefs beneath that sexy black material.

Or...

Wolf's right hand twitched slightly as he remembered the delightful feel he had managed to cop right after he'd set Red down. What sort of material had been lurking beneath those cute little black slacks? Silk? Cotton? Or...nothing at all?

He wouldn't put it past the sly little vixen to go commando.

He chanced another glance. Red, noticing this, glared at him.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, you pervert," he said, almost automatically.

"Why, Red! Whatever do you mean by that?" Wolf's air of injured innocence was truly a work of art.

"You ask as if you don't know." Red grumbled. "Look you, stop staring at my ass, or I'll..."

"Yes?"

"I'll..."

"Yeeees?"

"Shut up."

"You'll what? You'll throw me down in the bushes and have your dirty way with me? Oh, my!" Wolf brought a hand to his face in a coquettishly girly gesture. "I don't usually bottom, but for you, sweet Red..." he trailed off, leering suggestively at his now indignantly spluttering companion.

"You are vile and disgusting and I hope you die." Red deadpanned the moment he managed to find control of his tongue. For good measure, he reached into his basket and pulled out his emergency double chocolate fudge and treacle muffin. It wasn't actually very edible, as it had been first been frozen, then horribly burnt, and was about as hard as a diamond besides. Despite these obvious design flaws (muffins were, after all, meant to be eaten), it was still good to have on hand in case of an emergency. So far, he had only used it twice in his life: One time to save himself from a rampaging troll, and the other to knock out a strange girl that was half unicorn, half elf, half fairy and half human (how she was so many halves and didn't look like a freak, still boggled his mind to this very day) with shining hair of golden sunshine and sparkling eyes as blue as the sky. Oddly enough, the girl had actually frightened him more than the troll had.

Armed with the muffin, he took careful aim before throwing it at Wolf's head. It connected, as he had hoped, causing Wolf to fall over in pain. Satisfied, Red began to skip ahead, a bounce in his step.

Wolf lay on his back in the road for several minutes, completely stunned by the hard, rock-like object that Red had so forcefully chucked at him. He could hear the other man's skipping footsteps receding into the distance, but couldn't bring himself to get up and chase after the little prat. Red was _so_ going to pay for this latest indignity, and pay dearly. There would be spankings later, at the very least, or he wasn't The Big Bad Wolf.

Slowly, almost as though he were just waking up from a deep sleep, Wolf sat up. The rock-like object that Red had thrown at his head was sitting innocently off to one side, as though it were merely waiting around for something interesting to happen. Scowling, Wolf reached down and picked it up, bringing closer to his face so that he could examine it.

He sniffed, catching a faint waft of a familiar, deadly aroma...

"_TREACLE?_ That little shit's going _DOWN!_"

Red, meanwhile, was chortling gleefully at his success, and unaware of the punishment Wolf was even now plotting for him. Being whacked in the forehead with the chocolate treacle muffin of DOOM was not something that victims could recover from quickly, as he had learned from past experience. If he kept up the brisk pace, he might even be able to reach the border of the Sleeping Forest before Wolf could recover and catch up, and thereafter lose himself in aforesaid wood.

"I should have done that sooner." he said to himself, still grinning from ear to ear. Usually he would have questioned the ease with which he had rid himself of the pesky Wolf, but something was finally going right for him that day and he didn't want to spoil it, in case he inadvertently invoked the Ironic Overpower. "Ah, the joys of being unpestered." He continued to skip merrily in high spirits towards the Sleeping Forest, which emitted a soft melodic sound every once in a while. Unlike most forests and woods of the land, the Sleeping Forest was not enchanted. The worst things one could find within its borders were a handful of hungry bears, as well as a few trolls. Oh, and wolves. But he didn't want to think about them...

Other beings of slightly less dangerous nature resided within the forest as well, including the occasional water nymph that lived in the stream that divided the wood into two. His grandmother (who still lived, despite her ancient age) also called the place home, as well as a few foxes and weasels, and, of course, the forest's official keeper, Hunter Woodson.

Red stepped under the dark, coniferous canopy at last. He checked over his shoulder a few times as he made his way further in, but he was happy to report no sightings of indecently tight black leather. He sighed happily, glad to finally have some peace and quiet. The Sleeping Forest was very well-named. Unlike other, more obviously magical forests, this one was, for all intents and purposes, asleep. It was also, by default, nicely quiet. He expected absolutely no trouble getting through it. However, the Ironic Overpower still had some plans left for our hooded hero, so it was almost no surprise that he had walked right into...

"Oof!"

...A tall, rugged, manly sort of man.

"Oi! Watch where you're going!" Red growled in irritation, catching his balance and straightening his hood.

"Oh, dear, I'm terribly sorry. Are you alright, miss?"

"_Who're you calling '**miss?**'_"

"Oh, dear, I'm terribly sorry--er..._Red_?"

"Yes, Hunter?"

The man called Hunter Woodson blinked a few times, and scratched his head in bemusement as he stared down at the petite young man before him. Red regarded him with the patient sort of calm he'd developed after the many encounters with old acquaintances he'd had over the years. People he hadn't seen for several years usually reacted in a rather slow-witted, confused sort of way--probably something to do with his decided lack of development once he'd passed the age of fifteen. Hunter, general all-round nice guy, but not the brightest crayon in the box by any stretch of the imagination, was no exception.

"You're uh...you're looking well," Hunter said finally, though it was obvious to Red he was struggling to come up with something else to say to fill the rather awkward tension. Red sighed. It never was easy, randomly running into old exes, especially this one. Not that Red hated Hunter. Oh, no--that wasn't the case at all. Hunter Woodson was actually one of the few people he still got along with fairly well. Hunter had been his boyfriend before the Grandma/Wolf incident some years back, and because of that incident, had broken up with him. Red winced slightly, remembering the reason for the break. Hunter had been rather upset when, as all the wacky hijinks had drawn to an end, he'd finally worked out that Red was male. It still grated on his nerves somewhat - Out of an entire world _full _of Fruity Fairies, Prissy Princes and Ornery Orcs, Hunter just _had_ to be straight.

But presently, he supposed that it was a good thing. Hunter wouldn't randomly attempt to get into his pants, and--if he was willing to chat for a bit--they might even be able to catch up for old times' sake. And maybe Red might even be able to convince him to play 'bodyguard' for a bit. Thinking back to the whole pie thing with Wolf, and also considering what had gone on in Wonderland in the brief time they had been there, not to mention the events of just a few minutes ago on the road, he figured it wouldn't hurt to have a little extra muscle for the rest of the journey to the Wicked Fairy's castle.

Smiling in the way he knew used to make Hunter flush--and still did, he discovered, much to his amusement--he replied in a friendly manner. "And you look exceptionally well. I suppose I should say that it was nice bumping into you, but I do believe I would be lying if I thought that the literal sense was anywhere near pleasant." Suddenly remembering something, he pushed back his hood. After all, if it was polite to tip one's hat, then one was probably also obliged to remove one's hood.

Hunter still had a slightly confused expression on his face as he tried processing what Red had said, but his face brightened up at the sight of the other's. Spontaneously, he grabbed the smaller man and gave him an almost bone-crushing hug.

"Red! Red! It's so good to see you, old friend! I haven't seen you...I haven't seen you since we were little!" he stated, all of a sudden jovial. He held onto Red--who was turning an interesting shade of blue--for a few more moments before putting the gasping man down, thumping him soundly on the back in what he probably thought was a comradely, manly fashion. To Red it felt almost like the other was trying to knock him down, though he knew that wasn't true. Probably. "Oh, Red. We must catch up! And have some tea! Come on, let's go to my cabin." And before Red could put his plan of using Hunter as a bodyguard into action (or even protest for that matter), he was dragged away into the forest.

--------------

"You're kidding me? That Wolf is still on you?" Hunter asked, pouring himself another cup of tea. He and Red had been talking for at least an hour in the cozy confines of Hunter's cabin, catching up on the years they hadn't seen each other. The cabin was really a rather quaint little home, but it suited Hunter perfectly. It had once belonged to his cousin thrice removed, who had given it to him after he had died. The kitchen and dining area, like most of the rooms of the woodsman's home, contained quite a few portraits depicting the Woodson family.

There was Jeremiah Woodson, the first man to completely map out the entire southern portion of the Sleeping Forest. Next to Jeremiah was Anderson Woodson with his two sons, Watson and Warren, twin brothers who had become known as the greatest hunters in all the land. After Jeremiah was Jason Woodson, Hunter's father and the man from whom he'd inherited his rugged good looks. Jason had been an adventurer all of his life, traveling far and wide to seek his fortune, only to end up settling down at home, where he found his wife and had a family.

The Woodsons had a very long lineage, almost as long as some of the royalty, but that is another story entirely. Red's eyes often wandered to these pictures as he sat and chatted, wondering idly at times why his own walls at home did not contain family portraits as well.

He sighed as he turned to answer Hunter's question. "Yup. I honestly think I should catch him and get him neutered or something...because he drives me nuts." he said, frown firmly in place.

"That's a little...extreme, isn't it?" Hunter asked, blanching slightly at the vehemence in Red's voice.

"In this case? No. Trust me." Red assured him, taking a vigorous swig of his tea.

"Oh...well...alright, then."

The conversation returned once more to more amiable topics, and it was nearly an hour later again before Red stood up from where he was seated at Hunter's kitchen table.

"Thanks for the tea, Hunter. Sorry I can't stay longer, but I really must be going..."

Hunter, ever the vigilant, trust-worthy gentleman, frowned. "With that Wolf skulking about out there? I don't like it..."

Red sighed slightly, but spotted his chance – Not only would it be nice to have a bodyguard, but Hunter was actually pretty good company, all things told. Of course, _anything _was an improvement over the company he'd just left.

"Well, then, why don't you come with me?" he suggested, his voice flirtatious.

"I...uh...er..." Hunter blinked several times and began to blush. If he weren't trying to entice the man to help him, Red would have laughed. It was rather amusing the way Hunter still got flustered when Red flirted with him, even though the man didn't swing that way.

"Oh, come on, it's only to the other side of the forest! And maybe we can drop by Grandma's place as well, since it's on the way."

"Well, I guess it's not like I've got anything better to do right now...and I _had_ planned on patrolling that side of the forest today anyway, so...why not?"

"Great!" Red clapped his hands together in what he admitted was a calculated gesture of feminine glee. If Wolf had been watching, no doubt he would have raised a disbelieving eyebrow at Red's underhanded tactics.

The two men left Hunter's cabin and set off through the Sleeping Forest at a fairly brisk pace, towards Grandma's house.

As they walked side by side, Red pulled out the scroll of chores his godmother had given him earlier in the day. He had a bit of a problem with it (as he had indicated when he crumpled it up in his rage at the indecency of the tasks given to him) and he still did. Besides delivering the requested items to the Wicked Fairy, Red also had other things to do, like look for the cottage of the long missing Princess Briar Rose upon whom the aforementioned Wicked Fairy had placed a dastardly curse.

It was said that when Princess Briar Rose turned sixteen years old she should prick her finger and then die. Note: _should_. Always being a bunch of nosy busybodies, one of the other fairies who had come to celebrate the birth of the princess had alleviated the curse somewhat so that Briar Rose would fall into an enchanted sleep instead of dying outright. The downside was, she would sleep away forever and a day, unless some brave prince could come and set her free by True Love's First Kiss.

Red had to fight from gagging at the thought of a stranger kissing another stranger so that they could just wake up. It was just indecent, that's what it was. And what happened if they had bad breath? Or, gods forbid...they got fresh before they decided to wake you up? Then again, he supposed he wouldn't be too surprised if that ended up being the case. The fairies loved those sorts of things. Bunch of bloody perverts. And Death wondered why he hated them so much. He knew one thing for sure, though: If those blasted fairies were to so as much _think_ about letting that sort of thought into their heads about _him_, he was going to take his godmother's scythe and go on a rampage.

Thinking about how he was going to go about finding Briar Rose--as the world was a very large place and the meddling fairies had whisked her off somewhere--his eyes caught sight of one of the other chores. He frowned as he read the line. 'Check out disturbance in the Province of Glass, the Tempus Kingdom'. Now what type of disturbance could this be? He began to ponder the many things Death could define as a disturbance, when he found himself walking straight into Hunter for the second time that day. This time, however, he bit his tongue so he wouldn't tell him off. He _was_ wondering what had caused him to stop in the first place.

Looking around the bigger man he blinked at the sight that met his eyes. He then proceeded to vigorously rub his eyes, as he couldn't believe what he saw. Now, he was not going to even think about the beauty of this girl, nor try to describe how graceful she was, but he was mentally doing a victory dance as he pulled out a pen and crossed off one of his chores. He had found Briar Rose. How did he know? Who else would have gold of sunshine in her hair? Or blood red lips that could shame the reddest rose? Who else, but a damsel would be caught dead dancing around in the middle of a forest, but she who is gentle and fair unlike any other? Red vaguely wondered what Briar Rose would have looked like if the fairies hadn't intervened, and winced. Probably the product of too much incest for the sake of keeping the bloodline pure.

He wrote down the general whereabouts of Briar before putting his scroll and pen away, after which he was ready to go. He quietly called for Hunter to follow, but the woodsman wouldn't budge--even when he kicked him in the shin in an attempt to snap him out of it. Red waved his hands and snapped his fingers, but Hunter was totally transfixed with the vision before him. It was only when Red pieced two and two together and commented on his assumption did the man finally snap out of his stupor.

"You have a crush on her," the small man surmised, feeling just a little jealous and a might concerned. According to speculation, Briar Rose was destined for True Love, and in their twisted world that meant that she was going to end up with some brawny and blue-eyed prince. And if he remembered his chores well enough, it was his solemn duty that he help Aunt Love (Death's half cousin thrice removed on her aunt's uncle's mother's best friend's side) bring Briar and her prince together. And that meant making sure that the princess was never to be with anyone else. But that was beside the point...

"You _like_ her." he added.

...He detested playing matchmaker.

Hunter blushed a bright tomato cherry red and looked up at the canopy of branches and leaves, suddenly finding it very interesting.

"Feh...Come _on_," Red said, grabbing Hunter's sleeve and forcefully dragging him away from where the oblivious damsel continued to prance and cavort amongst the bunnies and the birds and the little baby deer, who had gathered around her to bask in her presence. Hunter allowed himself to be dragged along, but couldn't help himself from casting a longing glance over his shoulder at the conveniently sunlight glade where the beauty danced.

Red tried to fight down another little surge of jealousy as Hunter's expression remained one of unalleviated yearning, his mind clearly elsewhere. _Why_ were all the decent men straight? Why was he always the one setting up the decent straight men with the beautiful princesses or the deserving youngest daughters? Why was _he_ stuck with the dregs of society, aka, men like Wolf?

The Ironic Overpower, which he _knew_ existed, must really enjoy torturing him. There was no other explanation for it.

Hunter seemed to come out of his dumb-struck daze as Grandma's house came into view. The house itself was in good repair, as Red still made regular journeys to visit his grandmother and help keep the place looking nice. The two men climbed the three wooden stairs to the front porch, and Hunter knocked politely on the door. After a few moments, the door jerked open just a crack and stopped abruptly, as it was restrained by a chain-lock. A suspicious, squinty brown eye peered through the opening.

"Hullo, Grandma. It's me and Hunter. Can we come in?" Red said pleasantly, smiling.

"Red! It's about time you visited me, boy!" The door slammed shut and the two men could hear the sound of the chain lock being disengaged. When the door opened again, it revealed a tiny old woman, smaller even than Red, clothed in a modest pink dressing gown and fuzzy pink bunny slippers. She wore a white kerchief over her steel-grey hair, which was done neatly in curlers. Elegantly grasped between the fore and middle fingers of her left hand was a cigarette holder, upon which a half-burned cigarette smoldered.

"Oh, and you've brought a friend with you! Do come in, you two, don't just stand there gawping on the porch." With an imperious wave of her hand, Grandmother ushered the two men inside.

"We can't stay for long, Grandma," Red explained as he stepped into the entry-way. "I'm running errands for Godmother, but I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing,"

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, I am. The same as I ever was, no thanks to you, I might add. When's the last time you were around here, huh? Can't be bothered to visit a lonely old woman in her twilight years?" Red's grandmother poked him several times in the chest with one gnarled finger, glaring all the while.

"I was just round last week, cleaning out the gutters. Don't you remember, Grandma?" Red asked in a placating tone, holding up his hands to fend off her violent attack of his person.

"Don't patronize me, boy! And who is this? Another new man who'll dump you as soon as he finds out _you're_ a man?" she turned from Red to Hunter, who was watching her with the sort of bemused expression a St. Bernard might put on when confronted with an overly aggressive toy poodle. "You do know that my grandson is a 'he', don't you, young man?" she demanded. "I won't have you breaking his heart when you go to deflower him and find no maidenhead awaiting your approval, you hear?"

"Grandma..." Red was blushing a lovely shade of crimson, and privately trying to remember why exactly he had thought that this visit was such a good idea.

"I, er, realize that Red's a man, ma'am," Hunter said politely.

"You do, eh?" The old woman paused, blinked, and reconsidered. "You do?" This time, she sounded incredulous, and stared up at him from her diminutive height as though he were some sort of extraordinary new species of rock goblin that needed extra careful study.

"Er, yes?"

The old woman took a long, thoughtful drag on her cigarette as she contemplated Hunter. Red struggled to come up with something to say, but was still thinking madly when she asked, quite nonchalantly,

"So how far have you gotten?"

"GRANDMA!" Red was shocked and appalled. How could this sweet little old lady be asking such a thing?

"I, er, um..." Hunter was at a loss for words.

"Not too far, then, eh? Have you tried-"

"Grandma! This is _Hunter_! My ex? Remember that whole incident with the Big Bad Wolf ten years ago?"

She blinked, paused, and considered, letting out a long, slow breath and filling the air with smoke. "Hmm...I suppose I remember something of the sort. So you're the boy who broke my little one's heart all those years ago?" she was eyeing Hunter shrewdly, not unlike the way a cat eyes a mouse it intends to have for a meal.

"Er...um..."

"Yes, this is the same guy, but we're still friends, Grandma! Jeez!"

"Humph!" the old woman snorted derisively.

"And we really need to be going now, too." Red was aware that he was being incredibly rude to his grandmother, but he valued Hunter's friendship too much to let her continue railroading them down this line of discussion. She would still be his grandmother after all was said and done, and would no doubt eventually forgive him—Hunter, on the other hand, could much more easily decide that he would rather not be Red's friend anymore, if this continued.

"Fine, fine. Get on with you. But don't forget to come around this weekend – I need help cleaning out the cupboards."

"Yes, Grandmother."

"C'mere, boy, give your grandmother a kiss," the old woman beckoned, and Red obliged, leaning forward and planting a dutiful peck on her cheek. As he did so, he felt her slip something small and flat into the pocket of his pants, and couldn't help but smile. She was always handing out money. The woman may be a nosy old biddy, but she _did _care about him, and it made him smile to consider.

She smiled pleasantly enough as she saw the two men out the front door. Once she had closed the door, Red let out a huge sigh of relief.

"I'm really sorry about that, Hunter. She's kind of..." he trailed off, unable to think of a good explanation that wouldn't inadvertently insult the old woman.

"No, no, don't apologize. I have a grandmother rather like her...they sort of just take over, don't they?"

"Heh, yeah." Red laughed, feeling better at Hunter's reassurance, and shoved his hands into his pockets. He could feel the small packet his grandmother had placed there, and drew it out to have a look.

His eyes widened in horror when he realized that the small, square package wasn't money at all, but something else entirely. He squeaked in disgust and threw it to the ground, gagging.

"That...dirty old broad!" the words were out before he could stop them. Shuddering, he hurried up the road, leaving both the little packet and Hunter behind in his hurry to get away.

Red kept on running until he had run out of breath, passing by trees, bushes and the occasional cute, furry little animal. It was seriously not his day. First his ruined soufflé, then Wolf, then that humiliating display at the Queen of Heart's court, and now his grandmother and Hunter! He slowed down, stopped by a convenient tree, and proceeded to bang his head against it a few times. After sufficiently giving himself a headache, he sat himself on the ground and pouted. He couldn't _believe_ his family at times. Was his love life so bad that his _grandmother_ saw fit to meddle in it?

He should probably apologize to Hunter for running off on him like that. He must think that Red was a bigger freak than ever, now. He groaned as he imagined the man finding the packet he had left behind in his haste to run away from the embarrassment of explaining why his grandmother had stuck an unmentionable in his pocket in the first place.

"My family is nuts." he said to himself. "I have the personification of Death as a godmother, a crazy grandmother who keeps condoms at her age and--ugh!" He stopped himself short at even trying to decipher what his own parents had been like...not that he remembered them very well. He only knew them from fragmented memories and stories told to him as a child. He shook his head. "Yup. Screwed up family."

He was a little surprised when Hunter appeared a few minutes later, slightly out of breath from chasing after him.

"Are you...alright?" he asked, panting.

"Er...well, yes," Red responded.

"Oh, good. Was it a terribly big spider, then?"

Red blinked, completely thrown off guard. "Er...what?"

"That's what you were running from, wasn't it? I remember you being terrified of spiders, so when you ran off, I thought..."

"Oh. Oh! Yes. It was hideous. Big, bloody hairy thing, it was." Red elaborated, gladly seizing the opportunity for an excuse that didn't involve his grandmother's newly discovered perversion.

Hunter snickered slightly, and then muffled it, looking contrite. Red narrowed his eyes, staring up at the other man in suspicion.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"What? No. No! I wouldn't laugh at you."

"But you just sniggered. I heard you." Red hopped to his feet to narrow the distance between his and Hunter's faces somewhat, glaring all the while.

"Well, maybe I did a little bit..." Hunter conceded, taking an almost involuntary step backwards when he caught the expression on Red's face. "But it's just that...you're so cute!" he blurted out, almost without thinking about it. He cringed slightly when he realized it was true--Red, and practically everything he did, _was_ incredibly cute. It was really hard to remember that he was a man, sometimes, and that worried him more than he liked to admit.

Red, completely unaware of the thoughts running through Hunter's mind, snorted. "Fine. Whatever." He could live with being cute and girly. That _was _the image he tried to cultivate, after all, and the knowledge that it worked on Hunter, self-proclaimed straight-man, helped to mollify his injured pride. "Do you want to keep going?" he gestured at the road in an off-hand sort of manner.

"Yes, let's." Hunter said, nodding.

And so the two men continued their interrupted journey.

-------------

Meanwhile, a short distance away, a pair of amber-colored eyes carefully swept from side to side across the trail. The owner of the eyes had his hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his leather jacket, and he seemed in no hurry as he made his way through the forest. A glint of color off to the side of the road caught his eye, and he bent down to examine it. When he realized what he had found, he snickered quietly to himself and picked it up. Turning it over in his hands, he brushed miniscule bits of dirt from the package and slipped it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

Little treasure in his pocket, he continued his saunter through the Sleeping Forest. The strains of song caught his ears, but he ignored it--even when the origin of the sound bounded past him, twirling gracefully in her swishing dress as a trail of animals followed in her wake. He raised an eyebrow at the sight, but shook his head as he continued on his path after Red.

-------------------

Way at the other end of the forest where another road led to some ominous mountain entrances stood Hunter and Red, ready to part ways. Red looked ahead at the dark and gloomy clouds circling around the mountaintop where he knew the inner sanctum of the Wicked Fairy's castle was located, looking like a mist of pure evil. Too bad it was named Half-Evil. It made the whole dark and dangerous atmosphere seem less creepy. But that was not what made him step back, unsure if he should proceed or not. It was the ruler of that perilous mountain itself that he feared, not the mountain itself.

He did not remember much about what had happened during his first delivery to the Castle of Half-Evil--with good reason--but from what he did retain, combined with rumors he'd picked up on his journeys throughout the land, he dreaded his present course of action beyond belief. The Wicked Fairy was cruel and petty; selfish and unkind through and through. The fairy was a person of awe inspiring beauty that both drew a person in and sickened them at the same time. It was said that if one stared into the Wicked Fairy's eyes, one would know what malevolence truly was.

Whatever the Wicked Fairy wanted,the Wicked Fairy would get. It didn't matter if it was something small and insignificant or something highly important...no one denied _that one_. No one.

Hunter looked at Red worriedly as he shuddered in barely suppressed terror. "You going to be alright, Red?" he inquired in concern.

Red looked up at him and couldn't help but tell the truth. "Nope."

"Do you...uh..do you need me to come with you?" Hunter offered.

Red was tempted. OH was he tempted. But he had his pride, after all, and as much as he wanted Hunter's company, he knew he'd be better off in the long run if he faced his fears by himself. He also felt he would be a horrible friend indeed if he dragged Hunter along with him. There were some things friends didn't ask other friends to do, and visiting the Wicked Fairy was one of those things.

"No, thank you, Hunter. That's not necessary. It's sweet, but not necessary." The undisguised relief on Hunter's face when he said this did nothing to make Red feel any better. In fact, it quite made him feel a whole lot worse. Even someone as strong and manly as Hunter wouldn't willfully put himself in the path of the Wicked Fairy, it seemed.

"Well, then, I'll, uh, I'll be seeing you around. Stop by my place on your way back, if you have the time," Hunter said. Tipping his hat, he bowed slightly and practically scurried back to the safety of the Sleeping Forest. Red watched him go, all the while resisting the very strong urge to call him back. Only when the last bit of Hunter had firmly disappeared from view did Red turn back around to face his daunting task. Very slowly, he began to walk up the trail to the hidden entrance of the Wicked Fairy's castle.

Already he was regretting his decision to face the Fairy alone, but there was nothing he could do about it now. There was no way he'd shame himself by running back to Hunter like a little girl and begging the man to come with him after he'd very firmly sent him away. After all, there was a difference between fooling the population into _thinking_ one was a young girl and actually _acting_ like one. He was a man, dammit, and he'd act like one when it really counted.

Red was jerked abruptly from his thoughts by the sound of a voice. It was raspy and put one in the mind of sandpaper being rubbed vigorously on a chalkboard.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Red Riding Reaper. I have business with the Wicked Fairy," he informed the voice, whose owner he could not quite yet make out through the requisite dark, eerie mist that shrouded the mountain path.

Then, as if in a vision, the owner of the voice slowly came into Red's view. First a head, as one might expect. And a fine head it was too, with its lovely locks of autumn red crowned by a small circlet of golden leaves. Then came the top half of the body, the arms and then the legs--as one might expect from a person. Although, this was no ordinary person, if Red was anyone to judge. In fact, if the pointed ears and butterfly wings were anything to tell he was staring at a...

"Fae..." he muttered under his breath, trying very hard not to start hyperventilating."...wasn't there a goblin who used to guard this bridge?" Ahead was a bridge stretching over a large chasm, which seemed to be of the bottomless persuasion. There used to be an annoying goblin who made it his task to ask people who wished to cross three questions, which they had to answer truthfully. It was always, as far as Red knew, the same three questions, and the answers were ridiculously simple, so that the bridge goblin was really more of a nuisance than an actual threat. Now that a fairy was standing before him instead of the irritating but harmless goblin, Red was worried.

This particular fae was very bouncy and jolly, compared to the creature that he had replaced, and his attention was apparently somewhere else. Red had to tug at the fairy's wings to get the creature to focus on him once more. "Yes...well, he's on vacation," he said, voice rough and rasping. He cleared his throat a few times and drank some water from a flask at his hip. Singing a few notes, he found that it had become a decent sound, compared to his earlier somewhat wheezing voice. "Right then. Wicked is expecting you, but...you must pass one test." He held up a dainty hand, one finger pointing up.

Red raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "And that is...?"

The fae grinned. "A test of virginity!" he announced, much to Red's surprise. He giggled madly as the hooded man tried to make sense of what he had just been told, while sputtering madly in old English. _Bad_ old English. "HARK! For only virgins may pass this mark! Otherwise...go away and ne'er return!"

"Doth thou _mocketh_ me?" Red managed to get out, taking a full step backwards in his surprise. "What sort of imbecilic test is _that?_"

"'S a very good one, I thought," the fae muttered, looking suddenly downcast at Red's obvious lack of enthusiasm. Red, however, was not fooled for a moment. He knew how the Fae were – tricksy and sneaky, without a decent bone in their tiny, perfect little bodies.

"I refuseth to take part!" Red was slowly regaining control of his outrage, but the bad Ye Olde English was still slipping through a bit.

"Then you can't see the boss. Sorry, munchkin, but that's the way it goes." The fae had recovered admirably from his earlier disappointment. Red, meanwhile, was bristling at being called 'munchkin' by a creature whose head was barely level with his chest.

"I'm sorry, did you not catch my name? Red Riding Reaper? I have business here. Your boss is expecting me."

"Sorry kiddo, but them's the rules. Now are you gonna take my test or not?" The fairy crossed his arms and watched Red impatiently, waiting for his response.

"What does it involve?" Red asked cautiously, already nearly resigned to what he knew was coming. How he hated his job, sometimes!

"Nothing much. I just need to see how you react to..._this!_" So saying, the fae produced a rolled-up scroll from somewhere about his person and unfurled it with a flourish. Red stared at the image contained therein for a mere fraction of a second before he whirled around, wailing.

"Perverts! Indecency! My poor, virgin eyes!" He fell to his knees, weeping dramatically for what he claimed was his lost innocence.

"Huh...so real virgins actually _do_ exist." The fae seemed nonplussed. "Very well, then, off you go." With that, he disappeared back into the mists from whence he had emerged, rolling up the striking centerfold of the Wicked Fairy wearing a garter belt, thigh-high fishnet stockings, leather boots that came to mid-thigh, and nothing else as he went.

Red wanted to continue weeping at the mental illness of the majority of the population, but knew he'd better get across the bridge before the perverted fae returned with more horrible schemes to corrupt him.

He scurried over the bridge, beginning to plot the many ways he could somehow get back at the general population of the damned fae. He was sure that some of them were decent folk (of course, those would obviously prove the exception to the rule), but all of the Fae he'd ever met just made him want to claw his eyes out. Thanks to the latest in a long line of corrupt little creatures, he was fairly sure he'd never be able to get that blasted mental image out of his mind.

Into the depths of the mountain he did go, darkness surrounding him. He removed a candle from his basket and lit it up, hoping that its tiny flame wouldn't flicker out. He held it in front of him as he trekked onward into the cave, nervously glancing around. Sometimes he heard noises that made him jump and almost drop his source of light. He didn't know how long he had been walking in the semi-darkness, but he wished he were out of there already. The candle he held only lit up to a few feet in front of him, and he had already nearly fallen into two different huge pits twice, and bumped into several stalagmites besides.

Red stopped and gingerly peered behind him, having heard a funny sort of noise. His hand trembled as he brought it to light up the cause, but saw nothing. He gulped and tried to hurry out. For all he knew it could be a gigantic cockroach, or a ravenous mountain lion out of get him. Or worse...a spider! He shuddered. Hunter hadn't been joking about his fear--no...phobia--of the eight legged buggers...

Perhaps the Ironic Overpower was feeling particularly benevolent after that horrific stunt at the bridge, because Red couldn't see anything at all out of the ordinary – not that he could see very far at the moment, of course, but the distinct lack of spiders within his immediate vicinity did much to assuage his nerves. Turning back around, he hurried onward as fast as he dared in the dark caverns, and was soon breathing a (very small) sigh of relief as he emerged from the cave and back out into the open air.

The Wicked Fairy's castle loomed ominously close. Dark, angular, and very Gothic in appearance, the fortress seemed to spring from the very rock itself, perched as it was above a large, bubbling pool of red-hot lava. A very narrow stone bridge connected the island-castle to the rest of the mountain, and it was this bridge that Red had to cross in order to reach the gate. Taking a deep breath and settling his basket more firmly in the crook of his arm, he took his first step towards what he ultimately felt was to be his doom.

Not particularly bothered by heights, even when they involved long falls into boiling lakes of lava, Red strode out over the stone bridge with something approximating his usual confidence. Close inspection would have revealed that his knees were shaking ever so slightly, but no one in their right mind would attempt to inspect someone's knees as they crossed a narrow bridge extended over a gaping chasm, so it's actually really hardly even worth mentioning.

High up in one of the top-most towers, the Wicked Fairy giggled at Red's knees, magically magnified by a makeshift magical mirror crafted from a large silver platter into which ice-cold well water had been poured.

Hey, we said no one in their _right_ mind. The Wicked Fairy is _clearly_ several sandwiches short of a picnic.

Red, blissfully unaware of this latest in his long, depressing line of personal voyeurs, trudged wearily onward, and finally arrived at the castle entry. He lifted his right hand to take a hold of one of the enormous bronze knockers which were mounted just above his head on the black doors. He froze when one of the doors swung open of its own accord, and a gust of warm air blew past him into the dark, cold interior. Gulping, he tugged the edge of his hood low over his eyes, and slipped through the black, narrow opening.


	3. Wicked's Tasks

Torches lit up along the walls of the corridor, bringing light to the darkness that had been permeating the castle before. Red saw that it was just as lavish as he remembered from his last visit, and just as dark and gothic. Did the Wicked Fairy not know that there were other colors besides black? Or purple for that matter? Not that they didn't go well together, but Red thought that someone needed a new interior decorator.

He began to make his way to the inner sanctum, but was suddenly interrupted in his trek by a sweet and docile voice calling for his attention. Expecting some other fae with a ridiculous test, he whirled around to give the fairy a piece of his mind. When he saw what had been calling him, though, he stopped dead in his tracks, half-formed rant frozen on his lips--the sight before him paralyzing his entire body with pure terror.

There before him was the most repulsive, spindly and unsightly creature he had ever seen. And it was bigger than him. Standing atop eight legs with a large, bulbous body, too many eyes to count and slightly salivating fangs was Red's true phobia: The dreaded spider. He would have screamed like a little girl and run off, but his fear kept him stuck right in place.

The spider, however, regarded Red with obvious joy, with a cute smile (well, cute for other spiders anyway) aimed at the small man. It held up one of its, er...legs, offering it for a shake. Red, understandably, didn't return the offer. "Hello there, sweetheart." the spider said in a gentle, motherly voice. "You must be Red. You know...I said to myself, 'My! What a cute little thing in that hood! Must be the darling that Wicked's expecting.' But then I say to myself, 'Oh! But he's a grown man! Not such a cute little schnookums...'" At this point, the Mother Spider reached out and pinched Red's cheek, getting him out of his stupor. Predictably, he screamed for all he was worth.

"Oh, my! What good lungs you have!" the giant spider said in delighted surprise.

"K-k-k-keep a-away f-from me," Red stammered, girly scream having returned to him the use of his voice.

The spider regarded him with some amusement. "Oh, honey, there's no need to be afraid of me," it told him, flexing the end of one of its numerous legs in a fair imitation of a flapping hand. "I don't eat the cute ones, whatever Wicked might tell you," it continued in a conspiratorial voice. "Come along now, I'm to show you in to see the boss. Can't keep that one waiting, you know!" the spider let out a series of hissing, clicking sort of noises that Red guessed was supposed to be amused laughter, and moved past him and up the corridor.

Almost involuntarily, Red turned to watch as it passed. He was hard pressed to take his first hesitant step after it once it had proceeded down the hall a fair way, but was quickly encouraged when it called back, "Come along now! Or do you want me to carry you?"

That freed up his limbs, and he was able to force himself to walk after it, though all the while his mind was screaming, "Run away! Run away!"

'At least I'm behind it, and not the other way around,' he thought to himself as he trudged along.

The walk to the Wicked Fairy's inner sanctum seemed agonizingly long, what with the gargantuan horror pacing along in front of him, and who knew how many others hiding in the shadows. The halls were lined with plush purple carpets, and the torches that were lit at intervals along the walls provided light tinged with an eerie purple glow. Red was affected enough by the extravagance of the oddly colored fire that a little of his usual personality resurfaced in the form of a derisive snort. Such extravagance! But of course, that was only to be expected from the Wicked Fairy.

"Here we are, dearie," the matronly spider informed him after an unspecified amount of walking. He stepped from the shadowy corridor and into a large receiving hall, done up as was the rest of the castle in the gloomy black-and-purple color scheme. At the far end of the room was positioned a very grand staircase leading up to a dais, and in the dim light, he could just make out a tall, dark figure standing in the shadows at the top.

"Red, it's so splendid to see you again!"

The figure at the top of the dais darted from the shadows and down the stairs, catching Red up in a smothering embrace almost before he even had time to blink.

_I almost forgot how strong he is...then again, I haven't seen him in years_, Red thought to himself, letting his gaze wander up as his assailant pulled away from his enthusiastic hug so he could see if the Wicked Fairy had changed much over the years. Although he had glimpsed the vile poster the bridge fae had produced, he hadn't gotten _that_ good a look--not that he had wanted to, of course.

Like the rest of his castle, Wicked was dolled up from head to toe in black and purple. Red couldn't blame him, as the fae's hair and eyes were both violet in color. He was tall--annoyingly so--nearly six and a half feet, if he was able to judge--with milky white skin and beautiful, chiseled features. Though he wore an elegant black and purple dress that flowed down his muscular body, he seemed quite masculine in the way he looked down upon him through thick black lashes. His hair had grown since Red last saw it, cascading down his bare shoulders past his knees and curling about in a perpetual wind that didn't exist. And the arms that had held him so tightly were clothed in black satin, golden bangles dangling on each wrist.

Red shook his head. That had been way too descriptive for his liking, which meant that he had been staring too long at the Wicked Fairy. Pleased with the attention, the Fae moved to envelope Red in another tight embrace, which caused the young man to snap out of his daze. He stepped back and made a small bow, trying not to shake.

"My godmother sent word that you needed me for something." he said quickly, before Wicked could decide to throw him into another hug--or worse, curse him into oblivion. He trembled slightly as he stood there, trying very hard to look defiantly into the fairy's violet eyes, but could only stand his intense gaze for so long. Wicked was just as terrifying as he had tried to forget. Despite the rather normal (normal for a fairy, in any event) appearance that the fae had taken up, he could still feel the inherent malevolence and the wounds of the past welling up.

Wicked gave him a satisfied smile as he turned from Red and sashayed up the steps to his throne. The shadows receded somewhat as he ascended, so that Red could clearly see him once he'd reached the top. "Ah, yes..." he said smoothly, once he'd gained the platform of the dais and turned once again to face Red, a gloved hand dancing along his face as he feigned coyness. He sat down, crossing his legs and sitting back. "...Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes...that's right. Well, I need you to do some errands for me, my pretty little red one," he explained as he absently conjured up a golden goblet full of wine. He took a long, sensuous sip before continuing, his free hand stroking the armrest of the throne in a suggestive manner. He smirked when Red shivered.

"And what are these errands, if I may inquire?" he asked, shivering again. He was privately disgusted with the fairy's display and wished he would stop. He tried thinking of something other than Wicked to stay his fears...or at least make his knees stop shaking. He thought about puppies frolicking in the afternoon, but then had to fight from gagging. He tried thinking about apple pies, shortcakes and strawberry tarts, but that only served to make him hungry. He then tried thinking about people, and was very irritated when the first person his mind seized upon was none other than the Big Bad Wolf. He almost let out an indignant shout.

Luckily, he stifled it in time to hear the tasks Wicked was about to give him.

"I'm sure you remember the darling little princess of Tempus, do you not?" Wicked asked. Red nodded. His earlier chore had been to find the missing princess, and as he had, he thought it would be very silly indeed if he did not remember. "Yes, I suppose you would. Your godmother sent you in her stead for the celebration and then we had that delightful little tryst afterwards..." At this, the fairy chuckled and the hooded man blanched, trying very hard not to gag at the mental image the mentioned 'tryst' gave him. "Anyways...what I need you to do is to find the little darling and make sure she pricks her pretty little finger on...did you bring me what I asked for?"

Red nodded mutely, and fished through his basket for the items he had brought for the Wicked Fairy. They were a spool of thread, a small wooden stick, a pouch full of seeds and a few needles. Items so commonplace that Red had wondered why he even had to bother bringing them in the first place. With a dramatic wave of his gloved hand, Wicked gently made the thread, needles and stick float from Red's hands and towards him, leaving Red holding the sack of seeds. The young man looked on as Wicked began to cast some magic on the items. He recalled that he had dreaded something horrible earlier in the day, and now he realized he was about to find out exactly what that premonition had warned him of.

Almost sixteen years ago, on the day that Briar Rose had been born, there had been a great party to celebrate the birth of the young royal. Everyone had been invited to attend--The peasants, the gentry, the nobility, and royals from all around had been there. Several magical creatures had come to the christening as well--elves, unicorns, mermaids and fairies had arrived, all eager to see the newborn child. All had been invited, and arrived at the great hall of Castle Tempus on the specified day to celebrate...all but the Wicked Fairy, that is, and he hadn't stood for the outrage. Storming in dramatically half-way through the gift-bestowing ceremony, he had placed a horrible curse upon the infant, saying that the child would indeed carry the gifts bestowed upon her by all the magical creatures, but on her sixteenth birthday she was cursed to prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die. After the Wicked Fairy had swept from the Tempus kingdom and back to his castle, a few of the other fairies had tried to alleviate the curse. The best they had been able to do was to turn death into sleep.

Dread spread through Red as Wicked transformed the items he had brought into a spindle with a magic spell placed upon it. He stared in horror as the thing was floated back into his hands. Wicked smirked.

"Be careful now. It doesn't matter how many times or who...whoever pricks their finger on that spindle will fall into a deep sleep which can only be cured by true love's kiss." he warned, though he looked quite content with the idea that Red might mishandle the spindle and prick his finger on it. Satisfied with the horrorstruck expression on the young man's face, he continued where he had left off on his explanation of Red's duties. "Now...you must get her to prick her finger on that spindle. And after you do that, those delightful godmothers of hers will most likely put the entire castle to sleep along with their princess. They're such do-gooders, _really!_" Wicked paused momentarily to snort in irritation at the thought of the princess' kindly godmothers, but then continued, "Which is where your lovely bag of rose seeds come in...I'd like for you plant them in a circle around the castle, so that they may grow tall and bar any would-be rescuers from entering. Oh, do not worry about them growing...the enchantment that will surely befall the castle will help the roses grow speedily. After that, I want you to report back to me to tell me how things went."

Wicked paused for a few moments to let this sink into the hooded man's mind before continuing. He realized that he had waited too long as Red began to make his exit. He called for his attention for one last thing. "And Red...do not fail me, child. You do not want to displease me..." he purred, stepping away from his throne. He descended the stairs once more, and soon he stood in front of little Red, one satin-gloved hand stroking a freckled cheek in a deceptively gentle manner. He smirked and he leaned down so that his face was inches away from Red's. His breath was hot and cloying against the young man's skin, and Red fought the urge to squirm in disgust. "Don't disappoint me. Now go."

Red did not waste a minute running out of there as fast as he could. Wicked watched his retreat in amusement, and could not resist letting out a loud, maniacal laugh. The laughter carried throughout the castle, dogging Red's heavily pounding footsteps as he fled in terror.

He didn't stop running until he was out of the castle and across the narrow bridge - he only stopped briefly to light his candle so that he wouldn't be stumbling blindly through the cave to the exit, but continued onward at a very hurried pace afterwards, heedless of possible lurking creepy-crawlies.

Suffice it to say, the journey away from the Wicked Fairy's domain was at least as terror-filled as the journey _towards,_ though instead of anticipatory terror Red was now just experiencing flat-out terror. _Gods _how he hated his job! Why couldn't his godmother just leave him in peace with his little bakery? Why did she insist on sending him gallivanting to and fro across the country-side, fixing other people's problems? It wasn't like he was a particularly _nice_ person, after all. He was sure that there were plenty of other unfortunate saps who could be duped into doing what he did, do it happily, and be cordial to the people they helped besides.

Red was quickly out of the cave and fleeing across the bridge, though his out-and-out run had slowed somewhat to a brisk walk. He derived a small bit of satisfaction when he brushed by the Bridge Fae at the far side of the chasm and knocked the perverted little wanker flat on his rear, but didn't stop to laugh or otherwise revel in his small revenge.

In fact, he kept walking until he was all the way down the mountain completely, and safely back beneath the dark, welcoming foliage of the Sleeping Forest. Once he was deep enough in that he could no longer see the edge of the wood, he collapsed at the foot of a tall, old tree and took several shaky breaths, trying to regain his composure. He was incredibly glad that there was no one around to see him in his moment of pitiful weakness.

It is perhaps an indication of how upset he was that he didn't pause to consider what the Ironic Overpower would make of _that_ particular thought.

And so it was that he didn't notice a set of amber eyes regarding him watchfully from behind a concealing shrubbery.

Of course, the Ironic Overpower can be a real bitch at times, but it also usually knows when it really needs to mind its own business and leave things well enough alone.

And so it was that Wolf was content to simply watch Red pull himself together from his hiding spot, and had no thought in his mind at the moment of making his presence known in order to tease the younger man.

It took Red about ten minutes to regain control of his breathing and to force his hands to stop shaking. When he was feeling more or less normal, he stood, brushed off the seat of his pants, and very carefully picked up his basket. He had his mission to do, and it wouldn't get done if he just sat around.

No matter how grim the task was, he would to do it. As long as he still had a good pair of legs to make him stand up and go, there was no excuse not to. Even with his knees trembling a little, he put one foot in front of the other as he went to do the deed. As he walked, he planned. He needed to keep his mind busy so that he wouldn't have to think about what had just happened inside the Castle of Half-Evil. In fact, just reminding himself about what the place was named made him feel much better, and soon he gained a much more confident step.

Now what was he to do? Besides fulfilling the terms of a dreadful curse, he also had to spread his rose seeds around Tempus Castle so that the ensuing thorns, bushes and whatever else that grew from them would surround the large structure. So it meant that if he made the princess prick her finger before he got her to the castle, he was going to have to drag her body in there if he didn't. That was unacceptable, considering that his limited strength restricted him lifting chairs, and small tables. Anything as large as a medium-sized living room couch he either needed magic or help to move. So, reasoning that the Princess was probably quite a bit heavier than what his limited strength could cope with, he had to get her back into the castle--possibly by sneaking her in there--get her to prick her finger. After that, he would hopefully be able to get on with his life.

He nodded in satisfaction. That was a good plan. But now he had another problem on his hands. How in the world was he going to drag a princess to the castle without revealing what he was going to do to her? That left something else to consider. He adjusted his hood and found that it had fallen off during his recent panicked flight. Pulling it back up, he suddenly got an idea. A smile spread across his lips as he said, "Disguise."

Of course, it wouldn't be a disguise in the literal sense--it wasn't like he had the time or inclination to acquire and don some frilly, girly little frock, after all. No, this particular plan was so cunning that there would be no need for him to dress in drag at all. And that was always a good thing.

Now that he had his plan and was steadily moving away from Wicked's fortress (temporarily forgetting that he was obligated to return...he had to hang on to his sanity _somehow_, and selective amnesia was as good a way as any.), he was feeling much better about life in general. He even managed to skip along the forest trail in a convincingly carefree manner for several minutes before he began to feel self-conscious and returned to simply walking.

The return journey to the place where he had discovered the fair princess Briar Rose passed quickly, and he was soon inspecting the sunny clearing in which he had first espied the damsel. Now, most any woodsman worth his salt can tell you that a satin-and-velvet bedecked female, no matter how graceful and elegant, will inevitably leave a tell-tail trail behind her if she takes it into her mind to go traipsing through a forest. Red, though not an actual woodsman by any stretch of the imagination, knew enough about tracking to be able to spot the unique signature trail left behind by a genteelly bred young girl.

The residual glitter left behind by aforesaid girl also helped a great deal.

Thus it was with a minimal amount of trouble that Red located Briar. She had moved on to a different section of the woods, but was still acting much as she had when he had first seen her – prancing and twirling obliviously about, singing a sappy song about finding her true love. She was still accompanied by many small, cute, furry animals, all of which watched her performance in dewy-eyed adoration.

Red was hard pressed not to gag at the appalling sweetness of the sight.

Instead, he cleared his throat, and, adopting his best 'I'm just a lost little girl, please pity me and help me' demeanor, stepped into the clearing. Briar whirled around at the interruption, sky-blue eyes wide with anticipation, clearly thinking that her prince had arrived at last. When she saw that her interruption was not the man of her dreams, only a young girl about her age, she pouted very briefly. However, her strict royal upbringing broke through her disappointment, and her expression shifted quickly from a pout to one of polite concern.

"Hello, are you lost?" she inquired. Her voice was soothing and melodic. Not that Red cared.

"I am, a little," he said, raising his voice into a very convincing female register. "I'm trying to find my dear grandmother. She works in the castle kitchen in the Tempus kingdom, but I got turned around on my way and now I'm completely lost!" he threw in a well-planned, slightly desperate-sounding wail at the end, and watched in satisfaction as Briar's polite expression shifted to one of concerned pity.

"I know how to get to the castle," she offered. "And I had probably best be getting back anyway. Why don't you come along with me and I will show you the way?"

"_Would_ you?" Red gasped in a flawless imitation of grateful disbelief. "Oh, that would be _too_ kind! Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Briar, an innocent, fairly naive girl, smiled and flushed with pleasure upon receiving Red's gratitude. "Come along, then," she said kindly, stepping forward briskly. It appeared as though she had very little inclination to dance and cavort when she knew someone was watching, which raised Red's estimation of her a little. It seemed that maybe she wasn't as self-absorbed as he'd first thought.

"My fairy godmothers are going to take me to the castle and I'm sure that if I explained to them the situation, they'll surely take you there as well."

Red had to fight from making a horrified face at the thought of having to deal with even more fairies than was necessary for his mental health. Honestly, what had he done in a past life to deserve this torture? But he smiled at Briar Rose (though his left eye twitched involuntarily every once in a while) nonetheless. "Godmothers? Who are they?" he inquired politely, though he already knew the identities of those fairies. Much like the dreaded Wicked Fairy, the Goody Trio (better known as Harriette, Rona and, Hermia) were quite famous throughout the land...plus he had met them at the princess' christening celebration.

He hoped that they didn't recognize him. As flighty and annoying as they were; fairies had extremely good memories (just look at Wicked, sixteen years later and _still _holding a grudge). The last thing he wanted was for his cover to be blown just because a couple of fairies couldn't keep their mouths shut _or_ quit meddling in the affairs of mortals.

"They are the Goody Trio, Harriette, Rona and Hermia, of course!" Briar said, ending with a twinkling laugh that could make a troll's knees turn to jelly. Red mentally gagged at the magically enhanced person that was the young woman walking next to him as she continued to talk of her great and wonderful godmothers who catered to her every whim. "Harriette is a bit of a paranoid one, but she always knows what to do in a crisis. Like the time I walked straight into that dragon's nest."

Red raised his eyebrows. "Dragon's nest?"

Briar nodded and began to explain. "Oh, yes. I'm...well, I've often got my head stuck in the clouds, so sometimes I don't notice where I'm going exactly, and I end up in the strangest of places..."

Red looked away and smirked slyly, already plotting ways to use this quirk to his advantage. Turning back to face the princess, he beamed a cute smile at her. "Really? Sounds dangerous!" he said with a giggle. Briar laughed a little herself.

"Yes, it does sound dangerous, doesn't it?" she admitted, blushing a little. She suddenly stopped walking and glanced around, looking a bit more than a little confused. "Oh, no! Not again!" she whined, stomping her foot in a not very princess-like manner, which surprised Red. She jumped about a few times, disheveling perfectly placed hair here and there, her face turning an interesting shade of angry red. "Ooh! I always do this! I'm so sorry, Miss--er..." She peered at her companion helplessly, realizing that she didn't know the other's name.

The hooded man smiled a genuine smile (of pity) at her. "Red." he replied. He paused a moment, wondering if he should reveal his last name as well, but his common sense quickly vetoed the idea and chucked it out a window with a 'thank you for visiting--don't come again' note. "Little Red." he elaborated.

"Little Red...right. Well...amidst our talking...I...seemed to have gotten us misplaced." she told him, glancing around like a trapped animal. Red gingerly patted her back as he thought about what he was going to do now. Looking around, he realized he knew exactly where they were, though he couldn't admit that aloud, given his current role as 'lost little girl'. Did he dare broach the subject of asking for directions from Hunter? That was, _if_ the man had returned home from patrolling the forest. There was also the fact that he would have to endure the man making eyes at the princess while he was standing there..._and_ he would somehow have to find a way to communicate to Hunter that he keep his identity a secret. Decisions, decisions...

It was a bad idea. But it was the proper decision to make, he thought, because otherwise he would have to wait about until her royal highness got herself together so that they could get out. He _could_ just lead them out of there himself--he knew the way to Hunter's home well enough from the main road, so it was just a matter of reversing course--but he was still trying to go for the 'I'm a lost little girl, help me' image.

So, thinking fast, he said that first thing that came to mind.

"Oh, look! I found my trail of magical fairy stones!"

He blinked.

She blinked.

He wanted to slap himself in the face, and then bang his head against a tree. Where in the world had _that_ come from? He knew he could get creative when push came to shove, but that random exclamation had been, by far, the stupidest thing that had ever left his mouth. And the princess obviously agreed as she looked at him incredulously. He didn't blame her one bit.

Deciding to go with what he had blurted out instead of possibly making a fool of himself, he quickly began to spin a tale of these special fairy stones that could only appear to the owner, giving off a soft glow wherever they had been left to help guide a lost person. It was a lie, of course, and a very blatant one at that, but he was such a good liar that the young princess was soon clapping her hands in delight.

"Lead the way." she commanded.

He couldn't believe how gullible she was. Not that he was complaining, but still! And to think, some perfectly nice, eligible man was destined to end up as this silly chit's bridegroom. Red pitied the unfortunate soul who ended up as Briar's husband. It took an extra special sort of girl to be _that_ air-headed. He shuddered to imagine being _married_ to one.

Well...whatever. Better for him, in any case. Now perhaps he could avoid meeting with Briar's fairy godmothers altogether--he would guide her out of the forest in the direction of the Tempus Kingdom on the premise of following his bogus fairy stones, and still retain his 'lost little girl' persona, which was key in maintaining Briar's innocent trust.

"I dropped them behind me when I came along earlier to visit my grandmother," he explained as they made their way through the woods.

"I thought you said your grandmother worked at Tempus Castle...?"

"I did? That's right, I did, but I've got two grandmothers. One lives in the forest and one lives at the castle." Red lied smoothly.

"Oh, I see!" Briar nodded in understanding, golden curls bobbing prettily. Red rolled his eyes and continued on.

With the help of the magical 'fairy stones,' Red and Briar came fairly quickly to the main road leading out of the forest and towards the famous Tempus Kingdom. From there it was only a hop, skip, and triple plié along the well-traveled path to town. Red was smiling, privately congratulating himself on his success, when a rippling, melodic, unmistakably _fae_ voice called to them from behind.

"Briar! There you are, my dear! We've been looking everywhere for you!"

Now, not all fae are exactly the same. For instance, the females mature much more slowly than the males. So while the male fairies look very much like fully grown adults (in human terms, anyways), the females are still very much small and child-like, though their years might number in the thousands (in human years, for fairy years are much more different than the humans'--the only way to determine a fairy year is to take a human year, multiply it by a million, divide by pie--not pi--and subtract a moose) . And so it was for Briar Rose's three godmothers, who looked like cherubic little angels in green, red and blue.

Hermia, who was dressed in blue, flew up to the princess, looking rather cross. "Where did you go? One minute we're discussing the history of your kingdom, and the next minute we're flitting about the forest calling your name," she chastised, waving the cute little moon-tipped wand she carried with her everywhere. She looked to her fellow fairies, wanting a bit of support. Harriette, who dressed in green and knew much better than to get too involved (especially if her friend was trying to gain support for something), turned to look at a random snake she spotted in the grass. Rona, who wore the color red very well, wasn't as clever or so lucky and was immediately pulled into the discussion with a withering glance from Hermia.

"Er, right. That was _very_ naughty of you, Briar. Never do it again." she added, looking to Hermia to see if she approved. The other fairy still glared, but was satisfied enough. "Yes...er...naughty girl. Next time we won't even stop to visit anywhere..."

"I'm sorry! I won't do it any more!" Briar didn't seem too upset at being scolded. Judging from her calm acceptance of the scolding, coupled with the smooth, outwardly sincere apology gave Red the impression that she was scolded by her godmothers quite a lot.

"I should hope not!" Hermia huffed, sniffing in disapproval. "I keep telling you not to run off--what if you come across some strange, disreputable man? The world is not a safe place for pretty, unaccompanied princesses, you know." It seemed as though she was warming up for a well-rehearsed and often recited speech on the dangers of wandering about by oneself, but she wasn't given the chance to really get into it, as she was interrupted by one of her associates.

"Hello, who is this?" Rona asked, in what to Red seemed a rather desperate attempt to turn Hermia's attention away from scolding Briar. Frowning, Hermia turned away from the princess and regarded Red suspiciously, glaring down her little fairy nose at him.

"Oh! Where are my manners? Red, this is Harriette, Rona, and Hermia, my godmothers. Ladies, this is Little Red – I found her in the forest. I'm taking her to visit her grandmother in the castle!" Briar informed them.

"Little Red?" Hermia looked both intrigued and suspicious. Leaning closer, she put her tiny face right in front of Red's and regarded him through narrowed eyes. He stared back, his best expression of wide-eyed innocence firmly in place. "Wasn't there a Red at sweet Briar's christening fifteen years ago?"

"Of course there was, Hermia," Harriette broke in for the first time. "But this can't possibly be her – she'd be a grown woman in her twenties by now, and this young lady clearly is not. You're being overly suspicious again," she chided.

"Harumph. If you say so," Hermia sniffed an indignant little sniff, and Red privately let out a small sigh of relief. Bless his small, girly, youthful appearance! Things could have gotten quite sticky if the Goody Trio had realized that he _was_, in fact, the same Red as the one who had been at Briar's christening.

"Ooooooh, what have you got in your basket?" Rona asked, flitting slightly too close for Red's comfort, cherubic little nose sniffing away. "I smell pastries! May I have some?"

"Rona!" Hermia seemed shocked at her counterpart's forwardness.

Red, on the other hand, was in a bit of a bind. Normally, he was happy to share his pastries when asked to (even if he was being asked by a fae...pastries made good distractions when fed to the fae, and it was much easier to slip away while they were busy stuffing their faces). However, opening his basket in order to rummage for pastries in the presence of these three fairies was not something he wanted to do at the moment, as it contained a rather nastily enchanted magical spindle. Mind working furiously, he groped for an excuse to decline.

Not knowing what to do, he exercised his ability to randomly say something, and then explain in an elaborate lie right afterwards. "I usually wouldn't mind sharing, but these pastries are for my dearest grandmother and I wouldn't want them to spoil on my way to see her. They're very delicate, you see, and wouldn't taste as good if they went cold. But once I get to the castle, I'd be more than happy to let you have one." he lied smoothly, making an unhappy and slightly pathetic expression. Thinking on what he had just randomly spouted out, he thought that what he had just said was a valid reason and surely they would see the logic in his words, as well.

Rona did look a little disappointed and her stomach make an unlady-like little rumble, but she waved it off and conjured up herself a muffin of her own. "It's handy, but tastes like charcoal. Homemade food taste much better than fairy food." she explained when Red made a scandalized face. Biting into the muffin, she continued, "Making food out of thin air makes it taste like something a rat dragged in--"

"You said 'castle'." Harriette interrupted, slightly disturbed with where the conversation had been about to go. "What do you mean by that?" She didn't look like she suspected anything, but Red knew how crafty and all-knowing the fairies tended to be, more so with the females for the fact that they had 'woman's intuition'. Red was about to say something, but Briar Rose had jumped in before the hooded man could say anything.

"She's on her way to visit her grandmother, like I just told you" the princess reminded her cheerfully. "She works in the castle kitchens. Red and I met up in the forest and the poor thing had been so lost...I just had to help her out somehow." When the fairies turned to look at Red for confirmation of this story, he made the 'I'm a cute little girl, please help me' face. In turn, Briar Rose took up a pleading position, trying to beseech her godmothers into helping her with her cause. "Can't we take her home with us? Please? I swear she won't be a burden. I'll take care of her, I promise!" the princess pleaded, sounding for all the world like she was asking to keep a pathetic stray dog.

Looking on this scene, Red didn't know whether to be amused or highly insulted.

Harriette shrugged and looked at her counterparts. "I say it couldn't hurt."

Rona nodded in agreement. "And I would so love to try some of those pastries! They smell divine!"

Hermia, on the other hand, frowned and glared at the other two, though it was but a few moments before she grudgingly nodded her assent. This was usually the case when it came down to two against one-- It was the best way to keep the number of rows amongst the three of them down to a manageable level. Even though they were _called_ the 'Goody Trio', they were still fairies first and foremost, and all three of them had rather nasty tempers when incited to anger. Of course, the results of their anger tended to be fairly harmless, but most citizens preferred not to be dusted in magically adhesive glitter, or enchanted into giggling uncontrollably, or some other such odd, girly sort of occurrence.

"Right, I'll just call the carriage, shall I?" Harriette said, once she'd noted the approval of her fellows.

"Carriage?" Red whispered to Briar, slightly worried.

"Oh yes! You didn't think we were going to _walk_ back to Tempus Castle, did you?" she giggled. "That would be silly!"

Red, who knew for a fact that it only took about two hours of vigorous walking to get from the Sleeping Forest to the Tempus Kingdom, was a bit nonplussed, to say the least. Carriages should only be used for long, drawn-out journeys that would otherwise take days, surely?

Red watched as Harriette used her cute, star-tipped wand to summon a magical carriage. It appeared amidst a swirl of emerald-green sparkles, much in keeping with the Fairy's own coloring. The carriage itself was also green, and quite...posh. Though, he supposed, that was only expected, since he was traveling with a princess. The coach-man who had arrived with the carriage looked a little green as well, though Red suspected that had more to do with the nauseating feeling accompanying magical translocation than Harriette's color of choice. The four horses that were hitched to the carriage were all, thankfully, a very normal shade of white.

"Come on!" Briar said cheerfully, grabbing Red's hand in her own and tugging him towards the coach doors, which opened as she approached. Red gingerly followed her in, and sat down on the forward-facing bench beside her. The three fairies came in shortly after and settled in a row on the seat opposite them. The door swung shut, and a few moments later, the carriage began to move.


	4. In Which There Is Lots of Filler

Red was forcibly reminded of one of the reasons he never thought of women in any way other than platonic. They could just be a bunch of chatterboxes at times! To his side was the bouncing, bubbling fountain of niceness that was Princess Briar Rose of the Tempus Kingdom, before him were three squabbling fairies, and all four of the women were involved in a heated debate that centered around about the most eligible of men--not that Red didn't participate in the debate himself, but he could have done without the incessant _ringing_ in his ears.

At the moment, the topic had fallen on, of all people, Hunter Woodson. Apparently, Briar often frequented the Sleeping Forest and had snuck a look or two at the unsuspecting woodsman while he had been hard at work. Red had to fight from snorting derisively when that bit of information was made known to him. Well, Hunter would be pleased, at least. Maybe he could put away the green-eyed monster and hook them up somehow? But then…Hunter wasn't going to be alive in 100 years, which was a bit of a problem…

Anyway, like hell he was going to help hook-up his ex-boyfriend with such a ditzy girl.

"Red!" called the princess, snapping the man out of his reverie. "Tell us a bit about yourself! Maybe a hobby…likes or dislikes…dreams?" The blonde paused for a few moments, figuring out what else she could ask of her hooded companion. Then she smiled slyly--a little too slyly, for Red's tastes. "How about…your one True Love? Surely you have one?"

He blinked. He had never been asked about _that_ before, and now that it had been brought to his attention, he realized he had never even once given a _thought_ to that sort of thing. Of course, it would be silly for a man like him to even try to ponder about love at all. Besides, love just made things messy, complicating life far more than it should. His life was complicated enough without adding something as abstract and unpredictable as love into it.

Besides, all the men he'd ever liked had been put out when they'd found out he was a man as well. Being turned down time after time did tend to put a cramp in one's self confidence as a being capable of being loved. No, he didn't need love; not when it ended up with his heart being shattered. Whoever had coined the phrase 'It is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all,' should, in Red's humble opinion, be shot.

Red smiled at Briar and shook his head. "No, I don't have one. I am merely an ordinary, uninteresting peasant girl who bakes, your Highness. True Loves do not find girls like me," he replied, almost honestly. He scoffed a bit and thought about how right he was, though. He was a cantankerous, prudish, high-strung, and dirty liar who helped his godmother reap the souls of anyone and everyone. Most who knew who he truly was despised him. Or else they were straight. Either way, the result was the same.

A silence fell upon the carriage carrying them to Tempus Castle, the clop, clop, clop of hooves and the grinding sound of the wheels against the road the only things to be heard. Red stared out the window at the passing forest – they had passed from the open road into the woods nearest to Tempus Kingdom by this point. It would be perhaps another half an hour or so, and they would arrive. This was a good thing, as far as Red was concerned, for the day was growing short, and he only had until midnight to set the Wicked Fairy's curse into motion.

Feeling awkward in the stretched-out silence, Rona finally spoke up with a new topic.

"So, er…anyone up for some conjured cookies? They're air flavored." She asked, making them out of thin air as she spoke. Hermia glared at her.

"Honestly, don't you ever think about anything besides your stomach?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"But…but…I'm hungry!" Rona whined.

Hermia opened her mouth, no doubt to give voice to a caustic, scathing retort, when the carriage stopped abruptly. She was just looking around curiously to ask the driver what was the matter, when a loud "Thump!" made itself heard on the roof, and the carriage itself rocked unsteadily for a moment.

"Everyone out of the carriage, if you please," a pleasant male voice spoke from above.

"Well, I never!" Hermia huffed.

"Bandits?" Rona asked, disbelievingly.

"No doubt. We'll just hop out and set them straight, no worries," Harriette didn't seem to be too concerned.

"Oooooh, how exciting!" Briar clapped her hands in girlish glee. Red stared at her disbelievingly for a moment, while Harriette opened the carriage door and bustled outside, followed closely by Hermia and Rona. Briar hopped out excitedly after her godmothers, and Red, after a moment of thought, followed, leaving his basket carefully tucked beneath the seat.

The carriage had been surrounded by around half a dozen men, all rather good-looking, all dressed in dark green leggings and brown tunics. The fairies looked fairly unconcerned, while Briar appeared to be vaguely star-struck by the proximity of so many manly men in tight leggings.

"What's this? A coach full of unescorted females?" the man atop the carriage, clearly the ring-leader, spoke once Red had emerged. Turning, Red saw that this man was the most handsome of the lot, with shining blond hair tucked under a green felt cap ornamented with an outrageous red feather. The collar of his white undershirt was rakishly askew, and he had his thumbs tucked into his belt, his posture extremely casual and at ease.

"And who are you to be harassing a group of innocent passerby, young man?" Hermia demanded, flitting up into the air and hovering just out of reach of their assailant, iridescent blue wings beating furiously.

"Why, my good fairy, I am Robin Hood, and these are my Merry Men. You've heard of us, surely?"

"Yes, yes, I know who you are," Hermia flicked her wand irritably, and a shower of blue sparks rained down to the ground. "And don't call me 'Shirley'," she added.

Well, since there's no need to formally introduce ourselves, why don't we just get down to business, then?" Robin smiled engagingly, blue eyes twinkling. "Hand over any gold you have on you and we'll let you go on your way."

_One thing after another_, Red thought to himself in utter annoyance. Could his day get possibly any worse? Looking around at the Merry men surrounding them, he thought that it probably could, if they weren't careful. And just what were the fairies going to do? He sure wished that they would do it already so they could all go to the castle and he could be done with his chores for the day. He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on already.

"Well, we haven't got anything." Rona said, flying up next to her friend, crossing her little arms. "So why not just take your group of little boys and play elsewhere?"

Red grimaced a little. Oh, that wasn't good. Antagonizing bandits was never a smart thing to do. Who knew what they would do now? But Robin, still smiling, his eyes twinkling like a hundred brilliant stars, wasn't the least bit miffed. He merely laughed at her.

"My, what spirit! But you see...I'm afraid we can't do that," he said, chuckling.

Hermia opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Briar, who stepped forward.

"Hey! Aren't you the fellow who robs from the rich and gives to the poor?" she asked, staring up at him with her guileless blue eyes. Robin's attention shifted from the two fairies hovering in front of him to the ground below. His eyes lit up when he took in the sight of Briar and Red. He hopped down from the top of the carriage and knelt before Briar in one smooth motion, taking her hand in his and gallantly kissing her knuckles.

"I am indeed, the very same!" he announced. "I am much pleased to know that you have heard of me! For now that we both know that my reasons for robbing you are for a perfectly good cause, why don't you just hand over whatever gold you might possess?"

Briar flushed prettily and brought her hands to her face. "Of course you may have my pocket money, good Sir Thief," she said. "It's not much, but I hope you'll find it acceptable..." as she spoke, she stuck her hand into the pocket of her full, billowing skirts and withdrew a small leather purse, which she placed in Robin's outstretched hand.

"Briar!" Hermia was scandalized, but remained where she was and watched furiously as the brigand tucked the girl's small purse away into his jerkin.

"Very good!" he said, pleased. "And now, for the other miss," he turned from Briar to Red, who was watching the whole proceedings with an expression on his face that clearly said, 'I cannot _believe_ I am seeing this.'

Crossing his arms, Red firmly shook his head. "I have none to offer you, good sir, for I am nothing, but a mere peasant girl on her way to her grandmother's," he said through clenched teeth. He glared heavily at the man before him. Robin merely smiled ever-so-pleasantly in return. Red scowled. He was definitely with the blue fairy on this one. Any sensible person would not just _give_ their money over, especially not to a jerk like this Robin fellow. "All I have is a basket of food for my grandmother's table."

The handsome man considered this statement for a moment, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he pondered. If he hadn't been robbing them in broad daylight with that infuriating twinkle in his eye, Red would have thought him to be quite attractive. However, his attentions to the princess and overall mannerisms lead Red to suspect that he was straight. He sighed slightly. Finally, Robin gave his reply.

"Fine. Then we'll take your basket of goodies, my lovely," he said with a dashing smile. He waved for one of his men to retrieve the basket from within the carriage. Red wanted to protest, but Robin had anticipated this, and grabbed Red about the shoulders in a gentle but firm grip. Red was so surprised at this, his mind went blank and he couldn't even think of a single insult to fling at the brigand. "Now, now...I'm sure you can bake something else for her...my, that smells splendid!" He turned as the man he had assigned to commandeer Red's basket emerged from the carriage, baked goods in hand.

"But...I...no!" Red stammered, trying to get a hold of himself. "My grandmother is but a poor, lonely old woman, and I bake these pastries for her specially every week! If I show up without them, I...I..." He hiccupped, and could feel his eyes beginning to water. The hiccup had been involuntary and the watery eyes were not nearly as feigned as he would have liked. He had a sudden premonition of what Wicked might do to him once the basket, and, more importantly, its very important contents, were completely beyond his grasp, and he was hard pressed to keep from bursting into very real tears.

"There, there, my dear," Robin said soothingly, patting his head, condescension heavy in his manner. "If you're so used to baking pastries, I'm sure it will be no trouble at all for you to make some more once you get to wherever you're going. Men?" pushing Red away, Robin stepped back several paces and swept an elegant bow to the poor unfortunates he had just robbed. His men crowded round behind him, and together they faded into the forest, leaving behind three very stunned fairies, one slightly besotted princess, and one very, very unhappy baker.

When they were totally out of sight, Red finally exploded into a raging mess of tears and curses that were not suitable for a princess (who had her ears covered by her godmothers)—and especially not for the image of a little girl. Harriette stared in surprise, Hermia's face was etched in outrage and Rona had turned deep shade of crimson at Red's loud outburst.

"...COME BACK HERE YOU RUFFIAN SON OF A BLOODY BARD! COME BACK WITH MY BASKET YOU TRICKSY, UNHOLY, STUPID BASTARD SON OF AN ORCISH WHORE! IF YOU DON'T COME BACK I SWEAR I'LL GUT YOU WITH A BUTTER KNIFE AND USE YOUR INNARDS FOR A MEAT PIE! THIEVES! BANDITS! CHARLATANS!"

He went on for exactly three minutes, ranting about the state of the world and its indecency, continuing to shock the three fairies. Once done, his face was flushed and he was panting hard, his voice hoarse from screaming and ranting so much. He turned around to address the Goody Trio.

"Thank you very much for your kindness. I'm afraid that here is where we shall have to part ways, however. I must get my basket back, and you three are due at the castle." He bobbed an elegant curtsey, in complete contrast with the rant he had just let loose, turned, and stalked into the woods.

The fairies stared after the youth for a mere moment before Hermia found her voice.

"You get right back here this instant, you naughty child!" she yelled indignantly. If she actually expected Red to emerge from the shrubbery bordering the road, however, she was sadly disappointed.

Harriette stared suspiciously at the spot where Red had disappeared. "What sort of fifteen-year-old girl knows that kind of language?" she asked, almost rhetorically.

Rona stared after Red as well, though her thoughts were a bit more elementary. "Now we'll never get to try her pastries..." she said sadly, pouting cutely.

The Goody Trio held a brief conference, but they all fairly quickly decided that their top priority was to return Briar to the castle for her birthday celebration, which was happening quite soon. They bustled Briar back into the carriage and crowded in themselves, and soon the party was on their way once more, minus Briar's new friend.

Red made his way through the thick forest, wondering how in the world such a large group of men had managed the trek so easily without even leaving behind even a small trail. Not that he could have tracked them if he tried, but half a dozen or so men traveling in formation was bound to leave _something_ behind. All he had managed to do--in the minutes that he had already walked--was trip on a few large roots, set off a few traps that involved nets falling from out of tree branches, and, on one interesting occasion, get himself chased by a wild boar.

But he couldn't give up. He had to get that basket back at any cost! He didn't want to think of the consequences of losing the enchanted spindle inside of it. He shuddered as he remembered how close Wicked's face had been when he'd addressed him one last time before he left. The coy smiles and genteel manner belied the malevolence in the fairy...the beauty hiding away the beast.

So, he had quite a problem as the minutes stretched into an hour or more. He was sure that the princess had probably reached the castle by now, and was no doubt caught up in the carefree and jovial preparations her servants and family would be making to celebrate her sixteenth birthday. He had to get the spindle back at least, before the day was out. He wandered about the forest, even going so far as to check under rocks and brush for any trace of Robin Hood and his Merry Men.

He yelped in surprise as his red cape was caught in a low branch. In irritation, he tugged and pulled at it, but it wouldn't let go. He growled and snarled viciously, pulling at the cloth that wouldn't budge when he heard a very familiar voice.

"Let me help you with that."

He whirled about to face his would-be rescuer, intending to glare viciously. He was thwarted by his cloak, however, which, caught as it was on a branch, failed to move properly, causing the hood to cover his face as he turned. And so he glared sullenly into the red material of his hood while nimble fingers plucked his cloak free from the twigs it had caught on.

"Hello, Red," came the silky, sensuous voice of the man he had hoped he'd finally seen the last of.

"What do you want?" he snarled, tugging his cloak free from Wolf's hand.

Wolf looked hurt. An act, of course. "What makes you ask that?" he asked, sniffing slightly.

Red glared at him for a moment, then turned and shoved his way once more into the underbrush in pursuit of his basket thieves. "I don't have time for your nonsense," he said simply, calling back over his shoulder as he went. He trudged onward, determined to ignore any distractions that Wolf might attempt. He had to focus on regaining his basket. He had, as he had told the man, no time to spare. Briar Rose was cursed to prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel on her sixteenth birthday, which was _today_, and the spindle had gone missing. Of course, if there was no spindle to be had, the curse would not take effect, and the princess would live happily on, never to be bothered again by the Wicked Fairy.

Life wouldn't be nearly so nice for Red, were that to end up being the way things went. He suppressed a shudder and continued onward, trying very hard not to think about what would happen to him were he not able to complete his task.

He passed several minutes in this way, and when he paused to get his bearings, he was almost startled to hear that there was no one behind him. Turning, he stared as hard as he could through the dense undergrowth, but caught nary a glimpse of silver hair.

"Wolf?" he called, hesitantly, and was at once irritated with himself. He'd finally, it appeared, gotten _rid_ of the man, and here he was acting upset about it!

There was no silky smooth answer from the undergrowth, no untoward remark or lewd suggestion. Red held as still as he possibly could, listening for the smallest rustle of leaves or crunch of bracken underfoot, but could hear nothing other than his own quiet breath.

Hesitantly, he called out for the wolfish man once again. "...Wolf?" He looked about, wondering where he could have possibly gone. And oddly, he felt a small bit of panic. "Wolf! Woooooooolf!" There came no reply, except for the sound of his voice echoing off of various trees in the distance. The panic he felt was replaced by disappointment, which was soon switched to indignation when he realized what he was doing. What was he thinking? He couldn't possibly be missing that perverted man, could he?

Huffing angrily, he turned in the proper direction of the bandits who had stolen his basket and began to march off...only to be caught in yet another snag. Letting out an aggravated growl he set out to undo his cape in a calmer manner than he had earlier (even if secretly, he had the urge to struggle just to see if Wolf would come back to his rescue).

Red freed himself from the snag and glanced around once more for any sign of his leather-clad antagonist. When he saw none, he tugged his hood down a bit further over his eyes and gathered his cloak around himself, hoping to prevent it from catching on any more branches, and very firmly _not_ thinking about the amber-eyed man.

He pushed onward for another fifteen minutes or so, and was just getting ready to settle down for a break when a flash of light beige caught his eye. Blinking, he pushed aside an overhanging branch and...stared.

There, sitting innocently on a tree-stump, was his basket. He very nearly shouted for joy, but restrained himself from rushing over and snatching it up. This could very well be a trap of some sort--Robin Hood and his Merry Men were wily, tricky folk. He wouldn't put it past them to set up some sort of elaborate scheme to catch him unawares, and then to take him away to their secret hide-out and have their wild, graphic way with him. Or try to, in any case. They might not be so enthusiastic once they worked out he wasn't a girl. Or maybe they would. That many manly men in tight, tight leggings, all living together in the forest? There had to be one or two at least who swung the other way.

Shaking his head to rid himself of his stupid thoughts, Red returned his intellect to the problem at hand: Discovering what sort of trap had been placed upon his basket, and then disarming it and retrieving said basket.

Looking around on the forest floor, he located and picked up a handful of sizable pebbles, which he then proceeded to chuck, one by one, at the basket and the area surrounding it. He wished there was a way he could actually move the basket itself and confirm that it wasn't set to let off a trap when moved, but from this distance and with only pebbles, there was no way.

Once he was satisfied that there were no traps that would be set off by general movement in the vicinity of the basket, he cautiously crept closer, taking careful note of where he put his feet. After a few moments, he was standing right next to the coveted object, but still staring down suspiciously at it. He noticed a small slip of paper had been pinned to the lid. Blinking, he leaned down slightly to have a look.

Written on the paper in a scrawling, untidy hand were these words:

_A basket of sweets for my sweet little Red._

_Love,_

_Wolf_

He stared at the note, dumbstruck. He could not believe his eyes. He rubbed them to see if they were playing tricks on them, then he pinched himself to see if he was dreaming all of this (though he thought that everything was just too bizarre to be a simple dream). But there had been nothing in his eyes and he felt the pain in his hand where he'd pinched. He plucked the basket from its resting place on the tree-stump, half expecting a last minute trap to spring up. Cringing, he waited for it.

Nothing happened.

"I am too paranoid for my own good." Red said to himself, brown eyes darting about. He flipped open the lid to make sure the basket still contained its vital cargo, and was reassured by the dull gleam of the needle within. He shuddered and began to make his way back to the road as quickly as possible. That forest was too quiet for his liking, and it creeped him out almost as much as the thought of the Wicked Fairy did. "At least everything is back in order..."

The young man got out of the forest in record time, though the sky was now a pinkish shade of orange, telling of the deep night to come. His lips pressed into a thin line, showing his obvious agitation with the setting sun. He had lost too much time dawdling and making a fool of himself. It was time for drastic measures...he had to pull out the big guns.

And so he did something he'd wanted to do several times already that day: He started crying.

Now, most men have a problem with sobbing their eyes out like little girls. They feel that it makes them look like, well...little girls. This didn't really bother Red, as that was the image he was trying to cultivate in the general populace anyway. People tended to be much less suspicious of a little girl with a basket than, say, a grown man with a basket. So being mistaken as a little girl was really quite a benefit for someone in his line of work. The other reason Red rarely hesitated to publicly sob when he needed to was...

WHY, RED, WHATEVER IS THE MATTER?

...his godmother could always be counted on to know when he was really crying, (and not just putting on, like he had earlier that day for the Queen of Hearts), and would drop what she was doing at the drop of a hat (or tear) to rush to his side.

"Every-everything's going wroooong!" he wailed. The only drawback to his strategy of _really_ crying his eyes out was that it was difficult to stop once he started. He hiccupped and tried to get control of his tears.

OH, DEAR. WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT IT?

So he did...or at least, he gave her the main points. He was in a hurry, after all.

"...So now I have my basket back, but it's nearly dark, and if Briar doesn't prick her finger by midnight, I...I...don't know what the Wicked Fairy will do!" he finished, sniffing pathetically.

Death frowned thoughtfully, or at least, gave the impression of frowning. There was really only so much a human skull could do towards creating true expressions, after all.

WELL, I SUPPOSE I CAN DROP YOU OFF AT MADAME ARACHNIA'S PLACE IN TOWN. I'M DUE TO REAP AN OLD MAN A COUPLE STREETS OVER, SO IT WOULDN'T BE TOO FAR OUT OF MY WAY...

"Oh, _would_ you?" Red asked, disbelieving delight plain in his voice. Of course, he'd expected that his godmother would offer to assist him—he certainly wouldn't have begun sobbing like a small girl if he hadn't—but it was best to maintain appearances, and his delighted gratitude always made Death happy.

Death nodded, pleased that she was able to help out her one and only godchild. She raised a bony hand and patted the top of his head.

NOT AT ALL, RED. BUT LETS HURRY...MADAME ARACHNIA MIGHT BE CLOSING SHOP EARLY TODAY, AND IF SHE CLOSES EARLY I MIGHT--

The old skeleton paused, and suddenly thought better of what she had been about to say. There was no need to cause further panic in her already grief-stricken godson. So she smoothly changed what she had been about to say as she called for her ride, a lovely black stallion who had remained nameless throughout the many millennia it served under Death.

WELL, IF SHE DOES CLOSE...I'M SURE ARACHNE WILL BE ABOUT...YOU REMEMBER ARACHNE, DON'T YOU?

Red laughed nervously as memories of his childhood came to mind. A mental image of the annoying little girl who used to prank him every other waking moment floated past his mind's eye. He had frequented Madame Arachnia's shop quite a bit as a youngling, as she made the best clothes in all the land, and Death insisted he be dressed in high-quality clothing. Not only that, but Death and Madam Arachnia were quite chummy, and the old skeleton had called on the seamstress quite often when Red had been younger. Naturally, he'd had to come along with his guardian, and had often ended up tormented at the hands of Arachnia's young daughter, Arachne.

Arachnia had suffered a bit of a mishap in her youth, which had resulted in a rather odd curse, but it did not mar the quality of the clothing she created. She had been the one who had made his first hood, and every other article of clothing he had ever needed afterwards. Lately though, Arachne, the woman's daughter, who was very talented in sewing and fashion design herself, had been taking over that particular job, as well as many of her mother's other duties, as most folks were rather off-put by Arachnia's unfortunate appearance. Death was one of the few people who was not, which was perhaps why she still made a point of visiting the seamstress at least once a week.

"Yes, I remember..." he answered with resignation.

OH GOOD. Death said. IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE YOU TWO HAVE SEEN EACH OTHER. OF COURSE, SINCE YOU'RE IN A HURRY I DON'T EXPECT YOU'LL HAVE THE TIME TO CHAT, BUT...

As she spoke, Death mounted her nameless steed, and reached a bony hand down to Red. He grasped it and she pulled him up in front of her on the horse's back. Once he was fully settled, she kicked the horse into motion, and the world around them became blurred and distorted as the stallion began to trot. The world continued to spin oddly as the horse moved into a canter and finally to a gallop. Red squinted his eyes and tried not to think about it too much. He'd had several unpleasant experiences in the past when he'd traveled this way with his godmother, mostly involving rather violent arguments with his stomach. When that happened, his stomach usually won. He'd learned that it was really best not to dwell on the odd distorting of reality too seriously. He always felt better when he pretended he was just imagining it.

Just as abruptly as reality had begun to bend unpleasantly, it snapped back into place. Red and Death had arrived just outside a quaint little shop on the corner of a lively and bustling cobblestone street. The sign above the door read "Arachnia & Arachne: Seamstresses" in a spidery, curling script, which curved around a stylized spool of thread and a needle. Red could see a pair of men down at the far end of the street who were lighting the street-lamps for the evening.

"Thank you so much, Godmother," Red said, swinging himself down from atop the black steed.

ANY TIME, DEAR, Death responded. BE CAREFUL, NOW. And with a nod and a motherly smile, she was gone, only a soft gust of wind marking her passage.

Settling his basket firmly into the crook of his elbow, Red turned to look at Tempus Castle, which was still a fair walk away – only about twenty minutes through town, though, as opposed to the hour or so he'd been facing back out on the road. He had just taken his first step toward it when he heard a voice.

"Red!"

Cringing, he turned. _Today is just a lovely day of meeting up with old acquaintances...isn't it?_ Red thought wryly to himself as Arachne the Seamstress--a slightly bizarre young woman of obnoxiously bright, neon pink hair and twenty-six years--latched herself onto him with youthful abandon. She held him in a choke hold that would have rendered him unconscious had she not decided to let go of him so that she could begin to smother him with kisses.

"Red! My lovely, beautiful, darling, cute Red!" she gushed, grabbing hold of him again and lifting him up and swinging him around. Though they were roughly the same size and build, Arachne had the strength of a ten men--something that Red lacked profusely. "What brings you into town?" she inquired, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Funny you should say that..."

Arachne cocked her head and blinked cutely at him. "It is? Why?"

"Well...it's a long story, and I'm very busy right now, so, I'll tell you later!" So saying, Red tried to make his escape. He was thwarted when Arachne grabbed him firmly by the wrist, effectively holding him in place. He turned to glare at her. She pouted adorably back.

"Surely you're not in such a big hurry that you can't stay for a cup of tea!" she said, fluttering her eyelashes.

Red felt like weeping, but he figured he'd already cried enough for one day, so he sighed instead. When he didn't respond to her question, Arachne took his silence as assent and dragged him behind her into the shop.

The main area of the shop was quite a mess, as it was filled with odds and ends, rolls of unused fabric, dressing dolls, and lots of mirrors. An unfinished maid's dress was sitting on a table, the sewing needle still halfway through the process of pulling it all together. A beautiful suit stood on display next to a gorgeous wedding dress by the shop window, which had various accessories lined up neatly for the shoppers to see. The back area that Arachne pulled him towards was a brightly lit kitchen. She manhandled him into a seat at the kitchen table and began to bustle around the kitchen, setting up to fix some tea.

It wasn't long before Red found himself fidgeting on the plush seat. As Arachne poured their tea, she chattered on about the latest news of the Tempus Kingdom—The biggest bit of news was, naturally, the sixteenth birthday celebration of the young princess, followed closely by the rush to get the crown prince married off right away, and the various annoyances of losing business due to the sudden influx of fairy godmothers just poofing up clothes out of nowhere. He was itching to get up and run away very fast, screaming for his life, as she nattered on and on about this and that as if she were a broken record.

"...I made the princess' dress, you know. Lovely little blue number, but those fairies of hers just _had_ to ruin it by turning it _pink,_ of all things." Arachne said, taking a not so dainty sip of her mint tea. She was obviously irritated with the state of the world as she grumbled under her breath. "Honestly. I made it blue for a reason! Blue goes better with her coloring than pink ever could...I swear she looks all blotchy..."

Red nodded absently, wondering when he could get a word in edgewise. The moment he opened his mouth, though, the woman started off on another tangent, dragging him along in the one-sided conversation.

"...and Prince William has rejected at least twenty princesses, aristocrats and nobles to this very day. He so stubbornly wants to remain a bachelor, but as he's the crown prince--heir to the throne of Tempus--it is his duty to find himself a spouse and continue the family line. Which is why they have a royal ball scheduled next month. The invitations have already arrived! Though I don't know if I'll be able to go...Don't have a date to bring, and it's just sad when a girl goes alone to a ball, you know? Oh, but it will be marvelous! It's a masque, you see, and mother and I have already been commissioned to do so many costumes...Oh, costumes..."

He pondered on a way to distract her--any way at all--so he could make his great and dramatic escape out of Arachne's grasp. Well, it needn't be dramatic, he supposed, but it was certainly a start to making a plan. He had used his default way of getting out of sticky situations too much that day, but suppose he could give it another shot? It certainly couldn't hurt. But how to say something with Arachne chattering away like that, not letting him even get a word in edgewise? And he still had the problem of getting into the castle...

"...and so I said to him...bullocks, my man! That is pure bullocks! The nerve of some people. Glass slippers indeed..."

He was going to have to find a way into the castle without being detected. Security was probably going to be very high, as the prophesy still hung in the air, waiting to be fulfilled. The king and queen of Tempus probably wanted to keep their child safe until after midnight, for how else could they break this curse? The only other way was to wait for a hundred years, and they certainly didn't want to have to endure that. That was the reason why they had banned all spinning wheels and spindles from the kingdom in the first place, after all. If he tried going directly inside, the guards might stop him and check his basket, and he couldn't take that risk. Thinking of what the Wicked Fairy might do to him should he fail...

He shuddered. Maybe he could get a proper disguise...Yes, a disguise. He could try sneaking away from Arachne, grab a costume, and flee towards Tempus Castle...

But he needed to get away first. So, to follow trends, he said the first thing that came to mind.

"HEY, ARACHNE! WHERE'S THE BATHROOM!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, surely having awoken the dead with his yell. Somewhere down a couple of streets, Death was cursing her luck as the old man she had just reaped suddenly jumped up and started walking around, trying to gnaw at his own ear.

The young woman sitting across from him stopped in her chattering and blinked owlishly. She then started to laugh as she waved into a random direction. "Oh, silly me! The bathroom is over there, Red, sweetheart!" she replied. Thanking her, he began to make his way out of the kitchen, doing his very best not to go off at a run. He was going to keep what was left of his dignity, damn it.

Red slinked off into the shop area, tiptoeing carefully around this object and that. He looked around for something suitable to that he could swipe for the night (he wasn't one for stealing, in all honesty--he knew he would return whatever he took as soon as he was finished with it). The knight costume was too flashy and clunky; the monk's was too pious for his liking; he certainly was not putting on the rabbit girl costume...As he glanced around, his foot caught in something on the ground and he had to grab onto the nearest object before he fell over and made a racket. The thing he held was covered by a large cloth and felt like it had a big wheel. Feeling rather curious, he peeked underneath it and boggled.

"A spinning wheel?" he whispered incredulously, trying to comprehend why Arachne and Arachnia had a spinning wheel in their midst when they knew that they had been banned for the past sixteen years. But then, wonder turned into slyness as he realized he could possibly work this to his advantage. "Oooh...blackmail material..."

He could blackmail later, however. Now, though, he had to get out of here and up to the castle, hopefully with a disguise of some sort. His eyes darted quickly around the room once more, surveying the contents. They came to rest on a little black and white outfit hanging on the wall that looked to be about his size, and even had matching shoes set out beneath it. Glancing over at the kitchen to affirm that Arachne was still safely out of sight, he slipped over to the dress and lifted it from the wall, hanger and all. Stooping, he grabbed the shoes in his free hand, and then straightened and made for the exit, wrapping the pilfered clothing into a small bundle so as to be more manageable when he began to run.

The small bell above the door tinkled pleasantly as he opened it, as he had expected it to. He heard Arachne call his name in surprise, but didn't wait around to hear what she might have to say after that. He was running as soon as his boots hit the cobblestones, red cape flaring out dramatically behind him as he went.

If there was one thing Red was good at besides baking pastries and other sweet, delicious confections, it was running. He did a lot of it in his line of work, since he insisted on walking most everywhere he went when he made his deliveries. While there were plenty of cute, harmless creatures scattered throughout the land, there were also plenty of mean, aggressive creatures that would just as soon bite a chunk out of your side than look at you. It was the latter, of course, that he mostly practiced running away from, though every once in a while one of the former would pop up and give him trouble...Unicorns being the first and foremost, naturally. They were extraordinarily beautiful, it had to be said, but they were also extremely dull-witted, and all they ever wanted to do was lay their heads in Red's lap while he plaited flowers into their manes or did something else that was equally girlish and time-consuming.

Red ran until he was sure he was far enough away from Arachne to prevent the girl from following him. He hadn't seen a trace of Arachnia, the woman's mother, and so assumed that she was either resting upstairs or had gone out for the evening, leaving Arachne in charge of the shop. Either way, she probably wouldn't be able to follow him, so he was now relatively safe.

Ducking into an ally, he did a quick check for rats and bums. When he found evidence of neither, he set his basket and the borrowed shoes on the ground and quickly began to change into the outfit he'd selected. A pair of white, knee-high stockings had been clothes-pinned to the hanger, as well as a long, black ribbon and a little lacy headdress. Sighing slightly, Red donned the maid's outfit with--he realized to his chagrin--practiced ease. It never failed to astonish and irritate him how adept he'd become at slipping in and out of women's clothing. He quickly un-plaited his waist-length braid, finger combed his long, black hair into some semblance of order, and then re-did the braid, and then affixed the little lacy headband to his crown once he'd finished. He carefully pulled on the stockings and slid immediately into the borrowed shoes, avoiding contact with the dirty ground.

Finished at last, he flounced the frilly skirt once or twice to get the right sort of puffiness to it, and then rolled up his clothes in his cloak and placed the whole bundle carefully in his basket on top of the spindle. He arranged the rest of the day's pastries on top of that, so that his basket would pass a superficial inspection, should he be required to have one.

Thusly bedecked in his borrowed frills, Red stepped out of the ally and began walking up to the castle at a tempered, even pace, in keeping with the demure chamber-maid guise he had donned.

Hopefully, he'd be able to do his job without any further trouble...


	5. Interlude:Of Fairytales & Exploding Pies

I wrote this inane little ficlet for Apple because it is her birthday (the 13th of June). And because I was bitten by a nasty little bunny, and it would not let go until I fed it bits of my soul. P

-Of Fairy Tales and Exploding Pies (or something like that)-

Wolf was twenty years old, and had just moved to a different part of the country from the east – mostly involuntarily, because he had sort of been run out of Russet Town by the local watch for what they had called 'drunk and disorderly conduct' but which he himself considered a fairly routine bar brawl. Which he hadn't even started. It was entirely the other guy's fault. The man had had too much to drink and had lost too much money to Wolf during their perfectly illegitimate game of poker that evening (They'd both been cheating, but Wolf was by far the more skillful of the two), which was, it probably goes without saying, not a very good combination. In a fit of drunken rage, the other man had let fly a punch at Wolf, who'd had the sense to see it coming and duck.

Things had degenerated from there, of course. Wolf gave far better than he got – he was used to these sorts of fights, as he had been participating in them since the tender age of sixteen – and knocked out his assailant with fairly little inconvenience to himself. It was only after he'd won the fight that things became difficult.

Wolf was, naturally, quite used to being disbelieved by those in positions of authority. His penchant for black leather, long hair, and scruffy, carelessly shaven appearance did not do much to integrate him with the local rich folk. The fact that the man he'd beaten up was friends with the son of the mayor wasn't much help in establishing his innocence either, it had to be said.

He'd spent a night in the local jail, but had been released the following morning after being forced to promise to leave the town before nightfall. He'd done as he'd been asked, more to avoid any further repercussions for being an aimless drifter than because he'd really felt like it. People really pissed him off sometimes...

Well, no matter. It wasn't like he'd miss anything about the little town, after all. The local ale hadn't been all that great, for one thing, and most of the young ladies he would normally have considered bedding had not been the bedding type. Neither had the handful of young men he'd been eyeing either, come to that. No, there had really been nothing he'd particularly liked about that little town.

As good as chased from Russet Town, Wolf made his way eastward with the vague idea of stopping in Baker Town, a small but prosperous community positioned at the edge of the Fluffy Forest of Forbidden Fruits. The town itself was home to quite a large collective of cooks, chefs, and, as its name implied, bakers. If there was one thing Wolf liked as well as good ale and getting laid, it was definitely good food, which made Baker Town the logical choice as a place for him to regroup.

He was sitting at a table in a nice little café, drinking a cup of tea and feeling totally out of place in the charming, quaint little establishment, when he first set eyes on the love of his life.

Clothed in a clean white uniform shirt, black shorts, and topped off with a cheerful red cloak, a young woman about four or five years younger than him stepped through the front entrance and up to the counter, where she exchanged friendly greetings with the older woman who was currently in charge of the café. Wolf watched her carefully from the corner of his eyes, ears perked to catch the quiet conversation.

"Why, hello Red dear! What brings you into town today?" the woman cheerfully greeted the cloaked one.

Red...

"Hi, Agatha," came the response. "I'm doing the weekly shopping, as usual. I just wanted to come in and say hello." Her voice was lower and huskier than he'd expected it to be, but even in his surprise he knew it fit her perfectly. The two chatted amiably for a bit, unaware of their eaves-dropper. After a few minutes, though, Red turned to leave and stepped out of the café, her cape swirling cutely behind her.

Almost as if in a trance, Wolf quickly swallowed the last of his tea and got up to follow, pausing briefly to toss a few small coins on the table-top to pay for his beverage. Red's cheerful red hood was easy to spot among the mingling crowd of citizens that were bustling about the streets energetically as they went about their daily activities. He followed at an unobtrusive distance, keeping his attention focused mostly on other things – the market stalls, window displays, even other people. He knew too well what would happen if someone noticed his interest in the adorable hooded young woman. He'd be run out of town faster than you could cry 'Wolf!', and then his chances of ever seeing her again would be slim to none.

Red didn't take too much time shopping, though she did stop to chat with various people as she made her way through town. The sort of vague if friendly distance she placed between herself and those she interacted with did not go unnoticed by Wolf. He wondered a bit at what her appearance of outward friendliness coupled with her self-imposed distance could mean.

Wolf expected that once she had filled the basket she carried in the crook of her arm with her groceries, she would return to the more residential area of town – she seemed the sort of girl who would live slightly apart from the busy bustle of the main street – but was surprised when she instead took the road leading out of town and towards the Fluffy Forest.

He had heard stories about the Fluffy Forest of Forbidden Fruits – possibly one of the most unfortunately named pieces of land in existence – and none of them were much to his liking. First off, Wolf wasn't a big fan of fuzzy little rabbits and baby deer, which inhabited the forest in almost unnatural quantities, unless they were rotating on a spit over a nice hot fire. There was something about their innocent, beady little eyes that he didn't quite trust. The thought of wandering through a forest containing countless hordes of the sweet, innocent little creatures set his teeth on edge.

Secondly, and possibly most importantly, were the tales of the demon that made the forest its home. The Demon-of-Not-Quite-Evil-Intentions-and-Sickingly-Sweet-Manners was not, as its name might indicate, someone Wolf ever wanted to meet. Even in a dark alley. Certainly not in a bright, cheerful, sunny forest, such as the one his beloved Red was currently skipping into...

For a moment, Wolf paused and wondered at his very sudden and almost obsessive devotion to the young woman who was traipsing merrily from his sight. He'd never felt this way about any other woman (or man) he'd ever been intimate with, let alone introduced to. That he hadn't even so much as exchanged a pleasant greeting with the girl, and yet had firmly determined that she was the only person in the entire world who he could possibly consider growing old with, was, to be quite honest, deeply odd. He had always scoffed at those cliché 'Love at First Sight' stories old ladies told their grandchildren, and yet, here he was, experiencing the phenomenon for himself.

He hesitated a fair distance from the border of the Fluffy Forest, pondering. Little Red was so obviously good and sweet and innocent, there could be no doubt of her ability to traverse the wood without interference from the aforementioned Demon with the really long name. It was quite a different story for Wolf, however. He suspected that even if he skipped and sang – two activities which he would not be caught dead doing under any circumstances, it must be said – the Demon would notice his presence and probably manifest to make life difficult for him. There really was nothing good, sweet, or innocent about Wolf, after all, and a demon with such a name as the one who inhabited the forest would certainly be only too happy to point that out to his face.

Sighing, Wolf turned around and made his way back to town. Perhaps if he stuck around for long enough and avoided getting run out, he might be able to learn more about the mysterious love of his life that way.

---------------------------------

After a week of skulking about and collecting information by eaves-dropping, Wolf was rewarded for his patience with exactly the sort of information he had hoped for. It turned out that Red had a grandmother, who lived a fair distance off in the Sleeping Forest, and who she visited once a week. Upon learning this vital bit of information, Wolf immediately made his way out of town towards the forest of Red's grandmother's residence. It took him longer than it might have, because he had to go around both the Fluffy Forest and Wonderland, which lay more or less directly in his way.

The journey by road would have taken him two, perhaps three hours. The journey through the wilderness took over three days. The reason for this being, of course, that the roads crossing the country and through all the various towns and kingdoms were...not enchanted, exactly, but something close. The fellow who had enchanted them, hundreds of years ago now, had been a brilliant if slightly mad old man who had claimed up until his death that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line. He had traveled the length and breadth of the land in his younger years, talking to each road he came across until he had convinced it that not only was it the shortest distance between points A and B, but also that, _because_ it was the shortest, people traveling on it would go quite a bit faster than those who chose not to.

As roads do not tend to be brilliant scholars, or, in fact, even vaguely intelligent in the normal way of things, they took the old fellow's teachings to heart, and soon travel from point A to point B became much quicker and convenient for everyone. In fact, the mad old fellow had made travel by road to be so convenient, it was quickly agreed by all the citizens throughout the land that no one was to attempt to reason with the roads and make them see sense, because, under the circumstances, doing so would be much akin to cutting off one's nose to spite one's face.

Wolf was not necessarily fond of the roads – more indifferent, really. Yes, they were quite convenient if he was in a hurry, but as they also tended to run through towns and forests he would rather avoid, they could also be a bit troublesome as well. It didn't matter too much anyway, though, because while he did like sleeping in a bed from time to time, he certainly had nothing against roughing it. Sleeping outside beneath the stars appealed to him just as much as sleeping inside beneath a roof.

Once he had swung around in a wide circle to avoid both the Fluffy Forest and Wonderland, he made his way to the road, and used it from there on to get quickly to the Sleeping Forest. Unlike the Fluffy Forest, the Sleeping Forest was not, as far as he knew, home to any sort of odd patron demon who delighted in making life difficult for its denizens, so he entered the shelter of the trees without too much ceremony or caution. Once within the forest, he set about making himself as familiar as possible with it. This wasn't too difficult, as, much like his namesake, Wolf was quite at home in the woods. He located a cabin that belonged to some sort of woodsman, a river that was home to several luscious nymphs, an apparently abandoned tree-house which had probably been home to some sort of fairy, and, of course, Grandma's house.

Grandma herself was a sprightly old woman who owned a cross-bow and seemed to be a habitual chain-smoker. So much for his mental image of a sweet, harmless little old lady who baked cookies for her granddaughter and crocheted doilies for charity. He spent quite a bit of time skulking about her house, getting to know her routine, concocting a brilliant plan for to capture fair Red's heart. Or at least her pants. Love could come after. He wasn't too picky.

---------------------------------------

It took Wolf about a week before he felt confident enough in his grasp of the local geography to put his plan into motion. Incidentally, about a week is also how long it took for Red to come skipping along the path to the Sleeping Forest, basket cradled securely in her elbow and a cheerful look of goodwill on her adorably freckled face. Wolf was leaning nonchalantly against a tree right at the entrance to the forest in a prominent spot where she couldn't possibly miss seeing him.

"Hello," she said to him as she went past, smiling briefly. Wolf privately thought that he could melt under the gaze of her warm brown eyes, but instead returned her smile with one of his own and stood up straight, ever so casually blocking her path.

"Hello, my bonnie lass," he responded. She frowned slightly, looking up at him. He was a good six inches taller than she, at the very least.

"Are you lost?" she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"No," he replied. "Just taking a break,"

She shifted slightly, clearly a little uncomfortable and eager to get going again. "How about yourself?" he asked. "Are you going anywhere in particular?"

"To my grandmother's," she responded, trying to move around him. He let her, but then fell into step beside her.

"By yourself?" he asked, affecting concern. She glanced at him, suppressing a flash of irritation.

"Every week," she informed him, sniffing a little.

"Hm," he said. "Are you sure it's safe? Walking in these spooky old woods alone?"

She looked around, raising an eyebrow. The Sleeping forest was one of the least spooky woods in the area. In fact, just over there, she could see the friendly face of a cute little squirrel, watching them incuriously as it worried an acorn between its paws.

"Quite sure. I've been doing it for years."

"Oh. Well, then, I don't suppose you'd mind if I walked with you for a way?" he asked, sliding his hands casually into his pockets as he spoke. She shrugged.

"If you like,"

I do indeed, he thought, but didn't say it out loud.

He continued to engage her in conversation as they walked, exuding all the charisma and charm that he knew how. She relaxed a bit as they went, and soon was chatting quite amiably with him.

When they reached the first divergence in the path and she started down the left-hand fork, Wolf very briefly put his hand on her shoulder and pointed at the road-sign positioned in the 'V' of the branching road.

"Don't you want to go this way?" he asked, pointing down the right-hand fork. She blinked.

"This is the shortest way to Grandma's," she said, pointing in the direction she had initially chosen, glancing up at the sign for confirmation. She blinked again when she saw that the arrow pointing down her usual left-hand path read, Grandma's house: 2 miles, while the arrow pointing down the lesser-traveled, longer path to the right read: Grandma's house: 0.5 miles.

Wolf smiled slightly at her confusion, and went back to laying on the charm. "Perhaps you've just been misreading the signs before?" he suggested innocently.

Red blinked up at him and blew a strand of her black bangs out of her eyes. "I highly doubt it," she said, clearly unconvinced.

"Why don't I prove it to you?" he asked, gesturing grandly with an arm. "I'll go this way," he pointed down the left-hand fork, which the sign claimed to be two miles long. "And you go that way," he indicated the right-hand road, "And we'll see who arrives at the next crossroads first?"

She eyed him, a gleam of suspicion on her features, but shrugged after a few moments. "Fine," she said, and began walking purposefully down the right-hand path. Wolf tipped an imaginary hat at her retreating back, and began to saunter down the left-hand fork. Once she was completely out of sight, he broke into a run, and didn't stop running until he reached Grandma's house, which was still a mile off down the road. If he had timed it correctly, the old woman should be right in the middle of her afternoon nap...

Creeping round behind her house, he peered into the bedroom window and saw that the bed was occupied. Grinning to himself, he made his way to the tool shed, opened it, and after rummaging briefly uncovered a fine length of rope. Rope in hand, he made his way back to the front of the house, picked the front door's lock, and let himself in.

From there, it was a cakewalk to bind and gag the old woman, and then carry her, slung over his shoulder, out of the house and to the tool shed out back, where he settled her as comfortably as he could manage in the sod on the ground, skillfully ignoring the muffled curses and pointed glares she was directing at him.

After making sure the door to the shed was locked, Wolf ran back to the crossroads where he had told Red he would meet up with her, and quite a bit down the way he had come. Once the crossroad was nearly out of sight, he settled into the underbrush to wait for Red's arrival.

It was less than five minutes later when she appeared. She paused at the crossroad, staring suspiciously at the sign, which appeared to her to be just as bogus as the first, and then looked around impatiently. Wolf had planned to make her wait a good ten minutes to prove his point, but the little vixen shrugged to herself after perhaps only two or three, and made to go off down her usual route, which the sign informed her, much as the last one had, that she still had two miles to go before she reached her grandmothers, but which she clearly thought was wrong.

Wolf, slightly put out that the cute young woman hadn't waited for him, emerged silently from the brush where he had been crouched and jogged up the path towards her, puffing slightly as though he had run a long time and was out of breath.

"Hey there!" he called, grabbing her attention. She turned and regarded him curiously, waiting. "Had to...had to run that last bit," he told her, between breaths. "Thought you...might leave without me!"

To his astonishment, she laughed. It wasn't a tinkling, giggly sort of laugh like he would have expected from such a delicate young maiden, but was hearty and full, almost a guffaw. He found he liked it a lot.

"I see, I see," she said, smiling, and walked back towards him. "Would you care to walk with me for the rest of the way, then?" she gestured to the path she'd been about to take.

"What, the long way again?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well...I suppose I could go that way instead," she said, pointing down the other road.

"I would say so," Wolf replied, grinning. She smiled back, and began walking down what the signs claimed was the shorter of the two paths. After a few moments when she didn't hear any accompanying footsteps, she turned to look at Wolf, puzzled.

"Aren't you coming with me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Our paths must diverge here, I fear," he told her, sweeping an elegant bow – something he knew ladies had trouble resisting. "Perhaps we shall meet again another day, my bonnie lass,"

She smiled again. In fact, if Wolf didn't know any better, and he wasn't sure he did, he would almost have called it a smirk. Intriguing...

"Well, then, good-bye," she said. Bobbing a curtsy, which was quite charming considering she was wearing a pair of long black shorts instead of a skirt, Red turned and continued down her chosen road, cape swishing behind her.

Wolf smiled after her, and began making his way down his own path – the shorter of the two – and once more broke into a swift run as soon as she was out of sight. This time, when he reached Grandma's house, he let himself in as silently as before, and then proceeded to rummage through the old woman's closet. He found what he was looking for – a pale pink flannel night-gown and matching night-cap, and donned them. The gown was possibly not as baggy as they would have been were he an old woman, but it was baggy enough. Pulling his loose silver pony-tail into a severe, tight bun and placing the night cap over that, he critically examined his reflection in the mirror. Almost as an after-thought, he produced his pen-knife and carefully but quickly removed the worst of the stubble from his chin.

After that, he drew the curtains in the old woman's bedroom to block the majority of the daylight, and settled himself in the bed, wrapped in blankets, a shawl, and shadows, and waited for Red to arrive.

As he sat there, waiting, he wondered what exactly it was that was prompting him to act in this manner – surly there were easier, better ways to win the heart of one's lady-love...Right?

He was distracted by a knock at the front door, and the sound of Red's voice.

"Grandma?"

Well, it was too late to back out and further ponder the wisdom of his plan now.

"I'm in my room, dearie," Wolf called in a passable falsetto.

"Are you feeling well, Grandma? Why are you sitting in the dark?" Red asked, coming into view. She had pushed back her hood when she'd entered the house, and Wolf was able to see her face fairly clearly for the first time since he'd known her—and a very lovely, delicate face it was. He felt himself falling head over heels all over again.

"I have a bit of a headache," Wolf lied.

"Wow, are you sure that's all that's wrong with you? You sound like you have a cold!" Red hesitated by the door. "Do you need me to fix you some tea or something?"

Wolf's heart fluttered in his chest. So considerate! "No, no, I'll be fine. Come sit by me for a bit, my dear," he said, beckoning to the bedside.

Red complied, coming forward and bringing the little three-legged stool from Granny's boudoir with her so that she would have something to sit on. Wolf watched her quietly, smiling a small smile of satisfaction all the while. Once she was comfortably settled, basket at her feet, she took a good look at him, blinked, and said,

"My, Granny, what big eyes you have!"

Wolf blinked in surprise, but then smiled a complacent little smile and said, "All the better to see you with, my dear."

She cocked her head slightly, puzzled. "And Granny, what big ears you have!"

Wolf bristled slightly at being told he had big ears, but retained his complacent little smile, and responded, "All the better to hear you with, my dear."

Red made a puzzled frown, her brow furrowed in suspicion, and continued, "Geeze, Granny, what big teeth you have!"

Wolf grinned at this. "All the better to _eat_ you with, my dear!" he exclaimed, dropping the falsetto and pouncing. Red squeaked in surprise as he drew her close, pressing her slim body firmly against his and kissing her square on the mouth. _'Eat' in the most figurative sense, of course,_ Wolf thought to himself. And almost immediately following that thought was another: _What in the world is** that?**_ In his temporary surprise at discovering an unexpected sensation from an unexpected region of Red's body, he loosened his grip. Red pushed him away, gasping in indignation.

Glaring furiously at him, she grabbed her basket off the floor and backed away towards the bedroom door. "How DARE you steal my first kiss like that!" she yelled, blushing angrily. And then, almost as an afterthought, she continued, "And what have you done to my grandmother?"

"Nothing awful," Wolf assured her. Her? His eyes narrowed speculatively as Red whirled and fled from the room. Stripping off Grandma's night-gown and cap, he followed, slightly slower. He could hear Red outside, calling for her..._his_ grandmother. As he stepped outside onto the front porch, he heard a new voice.

"Red, what's the matter?"

"Oh Hunter, it's _awful!_ There's a strange man in Grandma's house, and...and...he-he-"

As Red sputtered in indignation, Wolf walked round the side of the house and saw that the hooded one was clutching desperately at an attractive young man who had the distinct look of a woodsman about him.

"He did what, sweetheart?" the man, Hunter, asked, twining a protective arm around Red's shoulders.

"Only the most UNSPEAKABLE things! It...it's too awful! But now I'll _never_ be able to marry!" Red wailed, completely miserable.

"Dry your tears, sweetness. All I did was kiss you," Wolf spoke up, drawing the woodsman's sharp blue eyes away from the wilting flower in his arms. Inside, he was both amazed and amused to discover that the hooded one was such a drama queen.

"You!" the blond glared. "Who are you? And what did you do to my girlfriend?"

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "'Girlfriend'?" he repeated, surprised. He saw Red crane her – his – neck to look at him, eyes wide with dawning realization. Wolf laughed. "Hate to break it to you, pal, but if that's a girl," he nodded at Red, "Then I'm not the Big Bad Wolf. Which I most certainly am," he added as an afterthought, crossing his arms and leaning nonchalantly against the side of the house.

Eyes wide, Hunter turned his gaze from Wolf to Red, whose guileless brown eyes were still leaking tears. "Red? Is this true? Are you really...?"

"A man? Of course he is!" came an entirely new voice. As one, Red, Hunter and Wolf turned and were treated to the sight of dear Grandmamma emerging, disheveled and with half her curlers askew, from the tool shed where Wolf had stashed her. Wolf frowned momentarily...he could've sworn he'd locked the door...

"Are you telling me you've been going steady with my boy for five months now and you didn't know?" the old woman continued, stalking up to Hunter and glaring up at him from her diminutive height.

"I...well...er..." the young man sputtered.

"_Grand_ma!" Red hissed, sounding completely and utterly mortified, as though the old woman was prancing about in her skivvies and singing show-tunes instead of just confirming his gender.

"What? Don't tell me you liked having him think you were a girl! What would have happened if the two of you had wanted to get married, huh? Poor sap would've had a bit of a surprise on the wedding night, if nothing else!"

"Grandma, I'm much too young to get married!"

"You're fifteen, aren't you? That's plenty old enough by my standards, young man. Why, I was married and five months pregnant with your Uncle Gustav when I was your age, I'll have you know! Kids these days..." She trailed off, shaking her head, and caught sight of Wolf. "And _you_!" she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Just who do you think you are, huh? Some sort of weird sexual predator, out to seduce innocent young boys, is that it? I've got you pegged, young man, don't try to deny it!"

Wolf was completely taken aback by the fierce little old woman, whose head barely came level with his chest. "Er...sorry?" he offered, wondering if it would be wise to begin backing away.

"Sorry? _Sorry?_ I'll give you _sorry!_" Red had recovered quite admirably from both his weeping and speechless mortification, and had moved on to indignant rage. Pulling away from Hunter's weak grasp, he stooped and rooted in his basket for a moment, before withdrawing...a pie.

Wolf blinked as Red stalked up to him, pie held carefully in his right hand as though it were some sort of dangerous explosive. He was so dumbstruck by this completely odd turn of events that it didn't even occur to him to duck when Red stopped several paces away from him and let fly with the pastry.

The world exploded in a mass of painfully hot blueberry filling. Wolf was extremely grateful he'd closed his eyes, because he could feel bits of gooey pie innards on his face, as well as his torso, where the angrily flung confection had impacted.

The clearing behind Grandma's house was deathly silent for several heartbeats. Then a songbird somewhere in the vicinity had the gall to begin singing, which provoked Wolf into action.

He carefully wiped the area around his closed eyes and opened them, gracing Red with his best inscrutable look. "Well," he said. "There's no need to shout. I can see where I'm not wanted." So saying, he turned about abruptly and stalked off.

"Hey! Hold up!" Hunter ran after him, catching his arm and forcing him to turn around. Wolf turned and snarled wordlessly at the blond man, feral as his namesake. Hunter's eyes widened and he quickly let go of Wolf's arm and held up both his hands. "Er, sorry," he said, backing away a few steps. Wolf vanished into the underbrush, heading for the stream so that he could wash off his face and jacket, and have a good pout besides.

------------------------------------------

After about forty minutes spent thoroughly scrubbing his face, cleaning his leather, and being giggled at by the river nymphs, Wolf wandered about the forest aimlessly for a while. When he heard two familiar voices speaking in hushed tones a little distance away in the direction of the woodsman's cabin (which he realized now must belong to Hunter), he made his way silently towards them, until he could hear what they were saying.

"Look, Red, I like you...a lot, but..." Hunter sounded like he was having trouble talking.

"But not like that. I know." Red, on the other hand, sounded resigned.

"Really! It's not you. It's me. Really. Because...I like girls, and...well..."

"Yeah. I know." There was a pause. Then, "G'bye, Hunter," 

"Bye, Red."

The sound of retreating footsteps reached his ears, and he quietly slid through the underbrush to catch up with them. He had no thought of revealing his presence, this time around- he just wanted to see Red one last time before...well, before he moved on, he guessed.

The look of utter misery on the younger man's face when he passed Wolf by made Wolf want to rush over and gather the youth into his arms.

He wanted to, but he didn't. The young man had made his feelings for Wolf clear enough not even an hour ago, and Wolf was not the kind of man who would force his presence on someone who clearly did not desire it.

_That might have to change, though,_ he told himself, watching Red's retreating back. When he'd been cleaning himself up and trying to ignore the giggly water nymphs who'd kept him company, he had resigned himself to moving on once again and finding new lands to haunt. The sight of Red's unhappy face had changed his mind on that account, however. The young man was hurt, and unless Wolf completely missed his guess, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Folks assumed Red was a young woman, and so he, for some reason or another, let them continue to think that. That he seemed to prefer men, judging from what Wolf knew about his relationship with Hunter, only compounded the problem.

Wolf himself liked women well enough, but he certainly wasn't averse to having a relationship with another man. He had set his heart on Red two weeks ago when he had first spotted him, and now, considering how much more he knew about the young man than he had then, he decided he would continue to pursue the delicate beauty anyway. He would simply have to change tactics a bit, as his "dress-up-as-Granny-and-seduce-the-innocent-maiden-youth" plan had clearly not worked. No matter- he enjoyed a good challenge now and again.

Content with his goal, Wolf watched Red's retreating back until his red cloak had disappeared from his sight. One day, hopefully soon, he would heal his beloved's broken heart, and then all would be well. Perhaps they might even live Happily Ever After, like the old storytelling grandmothers were fond of saying to their grandchildren...

...And then he would get his revenge for being splattered with an exploding pie. There would be scads of chocolate syrup, and an unspecified amount of whipped cream involved, as well as hand-cuffs and a blindfold, if he had his way. Oh, it would be such sweet, delicious revenge...

One wonders if Wolf would have been so resolute if he knew exactly how long he would be pursuing his goal...


	6. In the Tempus Kingdom

King Bartolby had always thought that he had it quite good. When he was young, he had gone on many adventures which had granted him riches, power, and a beautiful wife. From the moment he had taken over the throne, his land had known only prosperity, with only a few problems, none of them very serious. Just a few shortages involving vegetables and livestock that cleared up quickly enough, normally. Although these troubles had absolutely nothing to do with a drought hitting the kingdom or the animals suddenly becoming sick. No. Not at all. In fact, the land had known only the best of weather and the healthiest of livestock in all of the kingdoms.

The real problem was that poor King Bartolby couldn't read or write, even if his life depended upon it. You see, he had been one of those poor lads who came into great fortune by doing such and such quest given by such and such person who held the something-or-other title with the great powers of whatsits. Put bluntly, the man had been raised a total peasant boy, and his shortcomings still haunted him to this very day. Besides his near illiteracy, he had another failing: He had a very stubborn sort of pride that bruised as easily as a softened apple that had gone rotten at the core with worms festering about it, trying to turn it into compost. This meant that whenever he made a mistake, he wouldn't admit he was wrong, and would instead try to cover it up and pretend it had never happened at all.

Well, one could guess what this meant once in a while. Other royals getting offended by the chicken scratch sent to them by the king of Tempus, speaking of rude things to them even though he only meant to invite them over for some tea. Taxes were up quite a bit, due to the fact that he couldn't tell a one from a two and thought that a lot of circles on a piece of paper was a good thing. The worst was when he had to read lists and had to pretend to have read them only to realize later that they had been short one anniversary gift and 'no', his wife wasn't going to forgive him, and 'yes', he was sleeping on the royal couch tonight.

This was how he ended up in the predicament with the outraged Wicked Fairy at his doorstep some years back at the celebration of his second child's birth. The sultry Fae had dramatically stormed in on the christening, claiming all sorts of wild and evil things--in front of his guests, no less!--and then cursing the very child all had come to give their blessing to!

In all honesty, that little show had been inevitable in a sense for the fact that no one in their right mind would have invited the Wicked Fairy anyway--illiterate or not. In fact, Bartolby was perfectly content to live with the curse, especially since the Goody Trio--three fairies of fairness and benevolence--had said they would help little Briar Rose and alleviate the dreadful curse somewhat.

He had worse to deal with, in all honesty. Although, he did consider that his wife was partially to blame. She, after all, had been moaning and lamenting about not having a little princess to pet and to spoil, to call 'precious' and to love and coddle. Bartolby had thought that their one son (who was very strapping young lad, if a little anti-social), William, was enough for them to deal with as it was. But the king had been roped in and they had produced another child, which Margaret had insisted would be a girl.

But it had been a boy. It was a beautiful child, for sure...but it was a male nonetheless. Unfortunately, his wife had somehow convinced herself that her newest child was a girl and that was final, and the royal couple had ended up having a row that lasted all night and the morning after the birth of the child (whose wet-nurse had been summarily disposed of in case information had been leaked). Bartolby, frustrated and impatient with his wife, who appeared to be slowly becoming deranged, strode off to write a proclamation for all the kingdom to hear that a second prince had been born--never mind that the old hag's voice was still ringing in his ears, telling him that a princess had been born and not a prince at all.

He paid almost no mind to what he wrote, so deep was his irritation with the insistence of his wife that his second born was a little girl. In his inattentiveness, not only did he misspell prince (p-r-i-n-s-e), he also added an extra 'S' that had caused the royal proof-reader to misread it as 'princess'. You couldn't really blame the man though, as the king's handwriting was very shoddy and his English skills were quite lacking.

So Princess Briar Rose it was.

Poor King Bartolby never lived that day down as he watched his youngest son grow up to be one of the most beautiful maidens of the land (with much help from the christening gifts, it must be said. No ordinary boy could have turned out so pretty and feminine otherwise.), with her hair of golden sunshine and eyes as blue as the skies. How in the world was he going to explain to the world (especially to Briar Rose) that 'she' was in fact a 'he'? He was never going to live the shame down. Luckily for Bartolby, though, there was the distinct possibility that he wouldn't even be alive when the day came for Briar to finally wed. Nope. Not at all.

But who could say for certain? Maybe the curse wasn't going to happen. After all...he had banned spindles and spinning wheels from his kingdom upon hearing the Wicked Fairy's curse, and even with the young gender-confused royal's sixteenth birthday just around the corner, there was no Wicked Fairy in sight...

------------

"None shall pass."

"What do you mean 'none shall pass'?"

Red had hit another one of his proverbial snags as he stared at the guard blocking off the entrance to the castle. It wasn't even the main entrance where all the nobles, aristocrats and royals were entering, either. No, this was the _servants_' entrance, and there was a bloody _guard_ stationed at it! Red pouted and put his hands on his hips, getting a little irritated.

"I work here, so let me pass." he demanded, having already wasted almost a half hour trying to reason with the brute in armor.

"I haven't seen you here before." the guard replied, looking at Red from head to toe.

"I'm _new_." Red stressed, trying very hard not to go into a homicidal rampage of some sort. He was just about close enough to throw all caution into the wind, storm into the castle, drag the spindle out of his basket, _plunge_ the blasted thing into Briar's heart and then skip off on his merry way. "Now _please sir_...let me in before I get into trouble!"

"None shall pass." the guard said, repeating himself.

"Now look," Red said, trying to keep a hold on his temper. "I'm very busy with the preparations for the princess' birthday, and you're holding me up! What am I going to tell the King when the princess' birthday cake isn't done on time, hmm?"

The guard regarded Red suspiciously. "I'm fairly sure the cake was finished this morning..." he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes, yes, but the decorative strawberries we had were no good! They sent me off to get some new ones, and I've returned with them, and now you're holding me up! Just let me in, will you?"

The guard looked thoughtful, considering Red's request. After several long moments in which Red tried to look as innocent and maidenly as possible (not all that difficult, given the amount of frills he was currently wearing), the guard spoke again.

"None shall pass."

Red felt like tearing out his hair and screaming in frustration, but resisted the impulse. Instead, he put his famous, diabolical mind to work, and in mere seconds had conceived a plan so brilliant, so nefarious, so utterly magnificent that it was a wonder he hadn't thought of it before now.

"Oh my word, what is _that_?" he exclaimed, pointing off in a random direction at some non-existent object. The guard, who was a big, muscle-y sort of man, and slightly lacking in the brains department (as Red had surmised from his extensive use of the phrase 'none shall pass' despite heavy pleading on his part), turned his head to look. In that split second of distraction, Red ducked around him and scurried off, unnoticed, into the corridor leading to the kitchen.

"I'm afraid I don't see what you're talking about, Miss," the guard said, turning back to address Red once more. He blinked when he saw that he was talking to empty air, and looked around to see where the young woman had gone. Unable to find a trace of her, he figured she'd left while he'd been distracted, shrugged, and returned to his duties.

Red was congratulating himself at his successful ruse as he made his way into the castle. He wanted to stride, but that wasn't particularly lady-like, so he made due with walking quickly, so as to preserve the illusion of his frilly disguise.

The frill-bedecked youth scoured the large and highly decorated castle, in search of the fair princess he was destined to stab with a cursed spindle. Well, perhaps 'stab' was a bit of an overstatement, but eh...close enough.

Tonight was the party in honor of Princess Briar Rose's sixteenth birthday, and the noise level coming from the grand ballroom should be enough to the give the baker turned assassin turned maid an idea of where the girl had ended up after they had gone their separate ways. He whistled, impressed, as he saw the myriads of colorful silks, ribbons and lace swirling around through the opened doors, which were, oddly enough considering the security around the servant's entrance, unguarded.

Thinking to scope out the situation from concealment, he made his way carefully along the hall towards the sounds of the party, intending to have a look at who was attending.

This turned out to be a mistake.

"You! What are you doing, idling about like this, you lazy child! Take that basket to the kitchen and get back to work!"

Red whirled at the sound of the voice and stifled a sigh of irritation when he saw that he had somehow managed to attract the attention of the head maid. The woman bearing down on him looked to be a right tough old broad – the sort of woman he would normally try to avoid with all the ingenuity and skill he possessed, as his innocent little girl act rarely affected this kind of female.

"But I'm –"

She didn't even give him a chance to make up a plausible excuse for his presence – she simply grabbed him by the arm and began steering him forcefully away from the party and in the direction of the castle kitchen, which put rather a bit of a dent in his plans. He was struggling to think of something to say which would convince her to leave him alone, when a smooth, sensual voice spoke from the shadows.

"Is something the matter, Madam Butterby?"

Both the old woman and the young man turned as one to the owner of the deep, masculine voice, and caught an eyeful of loose, platinum blond hair and slightly amused mismatched green and gray eyes. He glided over to the both of them from the ballroom entrance, every step quiet and firm. _Graceful, _Red thought, nearly mesmerized with the quiet beauty of the man. _But where have I seen him before...?_

"Lord Heart!" the head maid gasped, free hand automatically moving to fluff up her hair and to brush off any errant dust from her uniform. "It is nothing. I was just making sure that this errant little child was on her way to the kitchen where she ought to be." she explained to him with a smile. Red glared at her and pulled his arm free from her grasp, preparing to give the woman what for, as he had a schedule to keep.

"Now see here! I--" In mid-start of his lengthy rant about her questionable ancestry and what she could do with her kitchen, two slim fingers pressed themselves to his lips. Looking up a bit--'Lord Heart' was a rather tall bloke, he noted with disdain--he saw the noble giving him a wink before standing in front of him...the way a knight would when defending his fair maiden. Red felt embarrassed, flattered and a bit indignant. Embarrassed, because another man was going out of his way to defend him; flattered, _because_ another man was defending him, and indignant, _because_ another _man_ was defending him.

Could the day get any worse? And what was this? His face felt warm! He could feel it going bright red. He quickly shook his head to clear it of any foolish thoughts. Goofing off could get him into serious trouble, and he had to watch what this _stranger _was going to do and say before he got delusions of grandeur.

"I'm sorry, Madam Butterby, but this delicate young lady isn't one of yours, I'm afraid." he told the woman smoothly, displaying white teeth as he smiled pleasantly. "She's one of my ladies in waiting, and I gave her permission to wander about while I had my fun." He aimed his sunshine smile at Red now, and Red felt his cheeks become the color of his namesake yet again. He knew that this man wanted confirmation for the rather blatant lie he was telling, so he ducked his head, giving a quick nod. With that, the blond noble wrapped an arm around his shoulders and began to lead him away down the corridor. "Come now, Virginia! So I can have my naughty way with you!" he said jovially, leaving behind a slightly scandalized Madam Butterby. Once they were well away, however, the noble took him aside to talk to him, still smiling that dashing smile.

"So, Red Reaper...I didn't know you made deliveries while pregnant with a man's child." he said, chuckling softly. Red gave him a look that was both surprised and suspicious. Lord Heart held up his hands defensively, his smile never leaving his pale, aristocratic face. "Now, now...don't look at me like that! So, my darling..." he said this with a small, yet dramatic bow. "...oughtn't you to be making your delivery?"

Red narrowed his eyes at him, having recovered from his earlier flush and flow of emotion. "Who are you?"

That smile again, wider this time and with a strange glint in the man's mismatched eyes. "Just...a friendly admirer."

Red blinked. He'd never had one of _those_ before...well, he'd had admirers before - case and point, one scruffy, leather-clad antagonist who couldn't stop staring at his ass if he tried--but never...well, never a _normal_ admirer. That he knew of. It was kind of...nice.

"Well," he said slowly, trying to keep his expression indifferent. "Since you know who I am and that I have business, I'll just take my leave of you now."

Lord Heart practically beamed, and swept a deep, flourished bow. "Of course, of course, I would not dream of keeping you. Please be on your way."

With one last suspicious glance, Red turned and fled quickly down the hall. Lord Heart watched him go, smiling such a soft, attractive smile that any person upon witnessing it would immediately break out into tears of pure joy at the privilege of looking upon such a beautiful, serene countenance.

Once Red had disappeared from view, however, the smile disappeared from his face, making it seem a little...grim? Dark? Somber? Possibly even a little...malevolent? He rubbed his fingers where he had touched the young man, bringing up the hand to look at it. "Yes...I won't be keeping you at all...at least, not yet..." He turned to search for a quiet, unoccupied space, finding himself suddenly unable to return to the party.

"...my love."

--------

Red made his way back to the party, wary of anyone who might try to lure him away. He was jostled in the milling crowd, and was discreetly felt up or groped on several different occasions by hands he couldn't see or catch. Whatever pity he had held for the doomed princess before was thrown out the window at this point, thanks to her so-called 'gentlemen' guests. He tried to locate said princess as quickly as possible--both because he knew he wouldn't be able to stand the indignity of the constant groping much longer, and because he could hear telltale chimes from the clock tower in the middle of town outside the castle gates. Time was running out, and he couldn't find that blasted girl anywhere.

He made his way past a table that had been set-up for the Goody Trio, doing his best not to be seen by any of the three, who were resting on their laurels for a job well done. Rona looked to be quite drunk, hiccupping occasionally and sending red sparks here and there. Hermia had already fallen asleep, wine from a spilled goblet soaking her hair. The only sober (and somewhat alert) one was Harriette, who kept a watchful eye on the crowd, presumably looking for their precious Briar Rose.

After several futile minutes of searching, Red came to the conclusion that Briar was not among the many mingling nobles in the ballroom. Just as he was pushing his way through to the thinning edges of the milling guests, however, he heard someone call his name. He flinched and increased his pace, attempting to make for the nearest doorway to avoid a confrontation.

He was too slow, however, and was glomped from behind by an enthusiastic...young man?

Golden curls briefly obscured his vision, and his ears were shortly thereafter filled with chipper if inane chatter.

"Red! Red, I'm so happy to see you again! Where'd you get that dress? It's super-cute! It looks so good on you! Oh, did you see your grandmother? How is she doing? It looks like you got your basket back after all! I'm so glad!" And so on.

So it wasn't a young man after all – it was only Princess Briar, chattering away just as he remembered. Odd, that. Here she was, celebrating her sixteenth birthday, and still flat as a washboard. Poor girl.

"Yes, yes, I am well, Princess, and," a sudden, devious thought occurred to him. "I have a birthday present for you!"

"Oh, you do? That's so sweet! You didn't have to! What is it?" Briar clapped her hands in girlish delight, her wide, blue eyes shimmering with anticipation. Red felt slightly nauseous at the sight.

"It's...a secret. And I can't give it to you here. Um," he hesitated, and Briar, as he'd expected, filled in the gap.

"Why don't you come with me to my chambers? It's very private up there—and there's no one around there right now."

"That sounds good!" Red agreed, relieved.

"Alright! This way, then!" so saying, Briar took Red's free hand and practically dragged him along behind her, away from the party and toward the privacy of her rooms.

It was the moment of truth. Once they entered Briar's chambers and he had the door securely locked, he would do the deed...take out the spindle and get her to prick her finger on it. But as they carried on through the entrance to a tower and began to climb many flights of stairs, he faltered a bit, while she chattered on about this or that, unaware of his inner struggle. Maybe it was because he was tired, haggard and irritated with the world...maybe he actually felt sorry for her. Who knew? So Red tried to remind himself of the good things he'd be doing by putting Briar to sleep.

_Think of all the men I'll be liberating from her sparkling charms!_ he thought to himself. _And think of the children who'll be getting their sweets tomorrow because I survived a mission from the Wicked Fairy! Oh, yes. Think of the children. Someone has to think of the children!_

Red shook his head, trying not to groan. Good lord, he was becoming unhinged. He needed to be rid of this girl, and fast!

"Here we are!" Briar chirruped, stopping in front of a door in the middle of the hall they were currently walking through.

"Great! Let's go in!" Red said in his best impression of a happy, carefree fifteen-year-old girl.

"Alright!" Briar agreed. She opened the door and (very politely, Red thought) gestured for him to enter first. He did, and she came in behind him, closing the door after her. This done, she swept through the large outer chamber which served as her sitting room and seated herself on a dainty, ornate couch. "Come sit over here, Red!" she enthused, patting the seat beside her.

Red did as he was instructed, and gingerly seated himself on the soft embroidered silk cushion. He couldn't help but think that the piece of furniture he was now sitting on probably cost more money than he made in a year at the bakery. It wasn't a particularly bitter thought, just a sort of inconsequential observation. He tended to notice random things when he was nervous.

"Alright," he said, settling his basket on his lap. He opened the lid and very carefully shifted the layers of pastries (now quite stale, after an entire day in the basket) and clothing to one side so that he could clearly see the cruel glint of metal that was the spindle beneath. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands," Red told her. She cocked her head to one side and blinked.

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"Because I'm afraid I didn't have time to wrap it," he explained.

"Oh, I see!" easily accepting this explanation, Briar closed her eyes, held out her hands, and waited. Gulping slightly, Red reached into the basket with the same amount of reluctance he would use were he knowingly sticking his hand in a hole that he thought might contain an bad-tempered creature with too many sharp, pointy teeth.

He grasped the spindle gingerly and lifted it from the basket. Angling it so that the needle was pointed slightly down-wards, he deposited it in Briar's hands.

"Oh!" her eyes flew open as she felt a prick on one of her fingers. Just as quickly, however, her gaze lost its focus and her eyelids drooped shut once more. All her muscles relaxed and the spindle tumbled to the floor. Briar herself slumped over onto Red, deep in slumber.

Red froze for a moment when he felt nearly all of Briar's weight collapse on top of him. He noticed once more how terribly under-developed the poor dear's chest was, before the realization hit him that he'd finally managed to do what he'd been sent here to do, and that he needed to leave post-haste. He carefully slid out from beneath her and did his best to arrange her comfortably on the small couch. He figured the Goody Trio would probably move her to her bed once they discovered her sad state, so he didn't have to worry about that.

As he manhandled her slim form about, he noted absently that the poor girl seemed to be lacking in the way of traditional female hips – the fluffy layers of her dress disguised a lot from the eyes, but there was really nothing they could do to fool the hands, which he was currently using to try to shove her lower half up onto the couch properly.

No chest, no hips, and an incessant urge to chatter away mindlessly...Red couldn't help feeling sorry for the poor sod who ended up breaking Briar's curse--the man wouldn't even have the consolation of a buxom figure to distract himself from the endless talking. It was adding insult to injury, Red figured, having to marry a woman who only _talked_ like a woman, but for all intents and purposes looked like a very pretty man...

Red blinked.

A pretty man...? Red mulled this over in his mind for a few moments. Should he have a look, or shouldn't he? If he did, it would quell his curiosity...However, if his hypothesis was wrong, there could be consequences...mostly involving his own guilt for pursuing such an action...Hmm.

His curiosity winning over his common sense (it _was_ almost midnight and it had been a very tiring day), he picked up the end of Briar's pink skirt and peeked. He blinked, blinked another time...and then blinked again. He dropped the skirt and picked up the spindle and his basket of stale goodies, and marched quickly from the chamber. He hastily rummaged for the pouch of rose seeds he had stored in his basket before shoving the Wicked Fairy's spindle back down into the bottom.

He stopped for a moment in the hall and groaned. Ugh. The Wicked Fairy. He had almost forgotten that he had to report to the damned bastard after he finished sowing the rose seeds. His life was just a long series of one horrible event after the other. _Sometimes_, he thought as he resumed his getaway, _sometimes it might just be easier to get it over with and kill myself._ But he couldn't do that, for two reasons. The most glaringly obvious reason being that his godmother would probably be highly put out if she had to show up to collect his soul before she was scheduled to, and she wouldn't hesitate to tell him about it, either. That in and of itself was enough to put him off any thoughts pertaining to suicide. The other reason, though, was because he really _did_ want to live long enough to play with his grandchildren...or reasonable facsimile thereof, because he had no illusions about acquiring said relatives by the traditional means.

"Do you think she's hiding in her chambers?" a fluting, feminine voice asked, interrupting his thoughts. Red gulped. He recognized that voice.

"I wouldn't put it past her, the little dear. She's never been a very big fan of large crowds, has she?" answered a second voice, just as pleasant as the first. Red looked around wildly –the voices were coming directly at him. He needed to find a place to hide, and quickly, especially if he wanted to avoid awkward questions. He found it in the form of a door just down the hall a little ways. Hurrying over to it as quietly as he could, he opened it and slipped inside, pulling it quickly shut behind him. He crouched behind the door in the dark room he had entered and held his breath, listening.

"Hmm? Rona? What's the matter?"

"I thought I saw something..."

"You're just seeing things, Rona." Hermia said impatiently, huffing at her red companion. She floated over to the open door of Briar's room. For a few seconds, there was a dead silence as the fairies Harriette and Rona paused outside, waiting for their third companion to finish checking their young charge's room. Both were very surprised to have her rushing out to them, screaming about bloody murder. Literally.

"Briar's been murdered! I see blood spots on the floor! I see her lying on the couch, her skirts above her head! Our Briar has been vandalized! VANDALIZED I TELL YOU!"

"Calm down, Hermia!" Harriette said placatingly, holding her hands up in front of her. She put her hands on her friend's shoulders, trying to shake some sense into her. "Now...what has happened...? What do you mean that Briar's been murdered?" she inquired calmly, yet seriously. Hermia held up a finger and pointed into the room. Letting her go, Harriette went inside to investigate while Rona took over for her and held on to the flustered Hermia.

Expectedly, Harriette had almost the exact same reaction as Hermia, though her following words called for action.

"We have the find the fiend who did this!" she said.

"I know who did this! It must be that terrible Wicked Fairy!" Rona said, bristling. For once in her many hundreds of years, she wasn't bothered by her constantly grumbling stomach or her urge to make a fool of herself in front of her fellows. "He has to be the one behind this!"

"You're right, of course," Harriette acknowledged. "He's the only one spiteful enough to do this to our poor princess. Let us be off at once!"

"No, wait!" Hermia exclaimed. "Before we rush off, we need to arrange dear Briar. The way she's laying right now is utterly disgraceful!"

From his hiding place, Red could hear the three fairies bustle about in Briar's room, calling directions and encouragement to each other as they moved the girl's..._boy's_...sleeping form from his couch to his bed. He wondered a bit at their insistence on calling Briar a 'she'. Did they not know that their princess was actually a young man? Or did they know and not care? He rolled his eyes. The second theory was the more likely of the two, considering their close proximity to the 'princess'. How could they _not_ know? Bloody Fae – it was so like them to pull such an obnoxious gender-bending stunt on an innocent bystander.

With this new revelation, Red was beginning to feel something resembling pity for Briar – sure, he didn't _like_ the kid much, but the circumstances under which he had grown up were certainly not...ideal. Judging from what he knew of Briar's father, King Bartolby, he would be willing to wager quite a bit of money that Briar's enforced femininity was a result of some mistake the king had made, and not of his own doing.

In fact, going entirely off of what he knew of King Bartolby, Red was willing to wager that the poor kid probably didn't even realize he was a man.

Boy, was he in for a surprise a hundred years hence. Red was glad _he_ wouldn't be around to witness it.

The fairies had returned to the hall and were still talking, discussing their plans for confronting the Wicked Fairy. Red listened to them as their voices receded as the trio made their way down the hall, and out of ear-shot. He remained where he was for the moment anyway, listening and thinking. If the Goody Trio was going to Wicked's castle, he certainly wasn't going to follow after them. He still had the rose seeds to sow, for one thing. For another, what if he ran into them, either coming or going? He hadn't parted company with them in the best of circumstances, after all – in fact, now that he thought about it, he'd probably pretty severely damaged his carefully cultivated image of a sweet little baker girl with some of the things he'd shouted at the bandit who'd stolen his basket.

Yes, it was probably best to avoid the Goody Trio from here on out. Now the only question remaining was...could he manage to do it?

After waiting for a few more moments, Red slipped out of his hiding place and continued on his way. He had to get outside and finish his job before the fairies sounded the alarm--he didn't have much time.

He took mind to where he was going and not to appear overly suspicious. He forced himself to only walk quickly, though he desperately wanted to run for his life. He did his best to stay inside the shadows--if he could find any, that was; the bloody palace was lit brighter than a torch convention on the sun--and to avoid people as much as possible by slipping into conveniently placed broom closets or other similar hidey-holes. Things were looking up. Perhaps he could finish this off without any hitches?

For a while, that looked to be so. Red could see the main entrance door--and it was wide open and unguarded! The young man was about to dash ahead when King Bartolby came into view, looking like a total wreck. And what was worse--the Goody Trio was following him inside, explaining to him what had happened and what they were going to do about it. Red's mind was racing...what was he going to do? The only other door was down the hall, and that led into the large party in Briar's honor. He could hide behind the tapestry next to him, but he doubted even Bartolby would be dumb enough not to notice him there.

His mind made up, he began to make a break for the ballroom. He only had a chance to take two steps before an arm shot out from hiding and pulled him behind the tapestry...which hid a passageway. He was about to yell at whoever had dragged him in there, but a hand was softly placed over his mouth and he was gently shushed by a familiar deep voice.

"More Fart?" Red inquired around the hand blocking his mouth, trying to see if it was indeed that man holding onto him. Lord Heart looked down at him, smiling pleasantly.

"That was a close one, wasn't it?" he whispered cheerfully, as the king and the fairies walked past them.

Red pushed himself away, and was slightly surprised when Lord Heart willingly relinquished his hold. In his experience, on the rare occasion when someone managed to catch a hold of him, they usually didn't want to let him go.

"This passage will take you to the back of the castle," the blond man informed him, gesturing to the shadowy corridor.

"Um...thanks," Red said. He bobbed a quick curtsey, and turned to hurry down the shadowy hall, pondering as he went. There was something oddly familiar about this 'Lord Heart', but hell if he could figure out what it was...

He stopped a moment at the exit to change his clothes. He checked his borrowed frills to make sure he hadn't ripped anything and that it wasn't dirty before carefully folding the dress and putting it into his basket. Donning his regular clothes and red hood, he stole into the night, hoping to put some distance between himself and the castle. No longer having to pretend that he was a woman, he ran like the wind until the torchlight in the windows was mere specks.

Now there was only one thing to do, according to what Wicked had told him, before reporting everything that he had done: Sow the rose seeds around the castle. Dirty work, and tedious, but the mind-numbing labor was sure to keep his thoughts off of his next task. Finding a good and sturdy stick, he began to work the earth as he planted each seed. Besides being an accomplished baker, Red also loved to garden. Around his home were daisies, tulips, forget-me-nots and various other flowers. There were also plants one wouldn't normally consider for a home garden--plants like belladona, wolf's bane, wild asphodel, and so on, but the young man had incorporated them into his home easily enough. And besides, who knew when he was going to need some sort of poison to get rid of a pesky wolf?

Red worked long into the wee hours of the morning, where the fruits of his labor were already beginning to show thanks to the magic that was surely being cast by Briar's three fairy godmothers. There were little sprouts on the ground where seeds had been sewn near where he kneeled, while further back there were already plants. The cloaked man yawned widely, shakily standing up. He checked the sky and saw that it was nearing dawn.

"Too early to be heading to Wicked's now..." he said to himself as he began to trudge away from the ring of roses. He had to start moving, or the enchantment that was sure to fall on Tempus Castle was going to trap him in sleep for a hundred years as well as those inhabiting it. He yawned. He was sure that that was going to happen, for why else would he be asked to stick seeds around the bloody place? Then again, he didn't claim to know how a fairy's mind worked...Wicked could very well simply be having fun at his expense, but this time...he didn't think so.

It took him a half hour to get down to Arachnia and Arachne's place, and by then the sun was peeking over the horizon. It took about another fifteen minutes for him to sneak inside and return the maid's dress, stockings and shoes. After that, it took less than ten seconds for him to fall asleep on the couch, and soon he was snoring as loud as a church bell.

--------------------

Somewhere in a place not held by Time sat two special individuals, who were having a spot of tea. Well, one was having a cup of tea; the other was chugging a large, two liter bottle of cream soda. On the diminutive parlor table between them were plates of little cakes, all from Reaper Bakery. The one having tea, who had a rather angelic disposition and was possessed of both a halo and a pair of fluffy white wings, blew at her cup as she kept her gaze down, seemingly watching something in another plane of existence. Her companion, another young woman who looked quite demonic with her horns and long, forked tail, was likewise keeping her eyes down as she drank straight from her bottle.

"I'm feeling a little bored, angel." the demonic one said, her face set in an expression of, well...boredom. She turned to her tea-time companion and gave her an adorable pout, trying to tempt her into action.

The angel sighed and set her cup down. "Should we really interfere? I think he deserves a break..."

The demon snorted. "Him? Rest? Ha! There is no rest for the wicked, and you know it."

"Not that I've ever been wicked, of course."

"'Course you have! There's more than one type of wicked, and I think you're the brilliant type." As she said this, the demon smiled brightly at the angel, batting her red-brown eyes flirtatiously. The angel merely rolled her own eyes in response. Displeased with the rebuttal, the demon tried out her puppy dog eyes and a quivering lower lip, summoning random sparkles and a pretty rose background to assist her cause. "Puh-weeeeeease?"

At this point, the drinker of tea knew that she had lost.

The Angelic Overpower of Irony sighed. "Alright. Fine. Whatever! I consent! But nothing too bad!" she said, holding up a breadstick in warning. The Demonic Overpower of Irony grinned as she chalked up another victory for herself before sliding through time and space a ways in order to wreak a bit of havoc.

The angel sighed again and sipped at her tea introspectively. "What have I done?" she murmured to herself.

--------------------

"Oh, how adorable he is!" A sweet, twinkling giggle.

"I wonder how he got here...?" A soft, gentle laugh.

"He must be an angel!"

"Oh, yes! An angel!"

Red mumbled something sleepily about lemons and slash. What they had to do with one another, he wasn't quite sure, but he _was_ sure that he never wanted to see a lemon or talk about slashing things ever again. Why? Because along with the lemons and slashing, he had also been dreaming about a certain someone clad in tight black leather, and _that_ was something he would prefer not to think about. Ever.

"Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead!" said a sweet voice as he felt something poke his side.

"Yes! Please do wake up!" said another soft voice, followed by more prodding.

The prodding and the poking did not stop as questing fingers moved about to bring him into wakefulness. Finally, unable to ignore the invasion of his personal space any longer, he swatted the hands away irritably and sat up, grumbling about indecent people who wouldn't let the average Joe take his well-earned rest. Blearily, he opened his eyes so he could have a look at the offenders, but all he could see were large colorful blurs. Rubbing his eyes of some sleep, he had a second look and was shocked into being fully alert.

"Oh! What pretty eyes he has!" said the girl in pink, fluffing her curled hair as Red looked at her.

"Such darling eyes," the other girl, who was dressed in purple, agreed. She was quietly trying to fix her bodice so her ample bosom would be perkier.

He stared at them, wondering if he was dreaming. This wasn't Archne's place! Where the hell was he? Quickly, he stood up and began to run, only to find himself smashing right into a wall he hadn't expected to be there. He lay on the floor in pain, holding his bleeding nose. Right. Different house, different geography...But how had he gotten here? And where _was_ 'here' anyways?

The pink one giggled and walked over to him, her frilly skirts moving delicately around her as she moved. "Aaaw...Susan, he's hurt himself."

Susan seemed more sympathetic, as she didn't laugh, and she stepped daintily over to where he lay prone on the floor to have a look at him. She knelt and studied him, tilting her head. "Well, Marie...we'll just have to help him out, won't we?" she asked, looking at her sibling (he assumed) with a very pleasant (and sparkling--her teeth were_ white_) smile. "Come, come...lets have Cinderella get him something for his nose!" She stood up and clapped her hands. "Oh, Cinderella!" she chirruped in a sweet, gossamer-spun voice. Never mind that gossamer doesn't sound like anything, her voice sounded like it anyway. When there came no answer, she clapped again--harder. Still no answer. She then stomped her foot and screamed in a voice Red would not have ever thought possible, were he not hearing it at that exact moment.

"CINDERELLA!"

The whole room was quiet, save for Susan panting slightly. Then there was the creak of floorboards and the opening of a door.

Red blinked, then groaned. Why did he seem to be fated to meet people with deceiving names? Sure, the black haired, bespectacled young man was quite attractive, but his name left quite a bit to be desired. 'Cinderella' grumbled under his breath as he entered the sitting room. His face was sooty, as well as his hands, as if he had been sleeping in the fireplace all night...or working in the smithy, if his leather apron, tongs, and big honking sword were anything to go by.

"Yes?" he asked, irritation obvious in his voice.

"We need you to help this darling little boy get cleaned up. Do it at once! We want to dress him up for tea!" the purple one, Susan, ordered. All the sugar and gossamer was gone from her voice as she addressed the sooty young man.

Cinderella rolled his eyes, but went to do as he was bid. "C'mon," he said, offering Red one of his hands to help him up. Red took it, and was pulled to his feet.

"Be nice to him!" the pink one, Marie, snapped as Red and Cinderella retreated from what looked to be the sisters' sitting room.

"Is your name really 'Cinderella'?" Red asked as they walked through a parlor and into the kitchen.

The young man scowled. "No, it's just 'Cinder', but those twits insist on feminizing it. Sit here." He gestured to a small stool by the fireplace. Red did as he was told and watched as Cinder wetted a rag.

"Where did you come from? Are you lost?" Cinder asked kindly as he knelt in front of Red and began dabbing at his face with the wet cloth.

"Uh...I may be. Lost, that is. I was out late last night, and I thought this was my friend's place, so I just let myself in and fell asleep on the sofa," Red explained around Cinder's careful ministrations.

"Huh...that's strange. Not as strange as some of the things that have been happening around here recently, I'll admit, but still..."

"Strange things?" Red prompted. He'd been told to check out an unusual disturbance in the Tempus Kingdom, after all...perhaps he had somehow unwittingly stumbled upon it.

"Yeah...It's basically to do with those two--" Cinder jerked his head in the direction of the sitting room occupied by the two beauties. "They're my step-sisters...they've always been awful harpies, and they used to be rather plain-- not much to look at, you know--but one day, it seems as though they just woke up and had...well." He paused for a moment, and continued blotting at Red's nose in silence. "There you go," he said after about a minute. Finished with cleaning the youth's face, Cinder stood up.

"Er...thanks," Red said, standing up as well.

"Don't mention it."

"Um...I really don't have time to dress up for tea with your...er, sisters. And I need my basket. Would you mind...?"

"Sure," Cinder nodded. He walked from the kitchen and out of sight. A few moments later, Red could hear his sisters--what had he called them? Harpies? It was a good description--shrieking at him to hurry up and bring their new little friend in so that they could all have tea.

There were several crashing noises, and then Cinder came back into the kitchen, bearing Red's basket in his arms. Adjusting his now slightly crooked glasses, he returned the item to the baker. "Here you are." he said, rather unnecessarily. He didn't know what else he could say. The two of them stood awkwardly together in the kitchen for a few moments, staring at nothing in particular.

Red coughed. "Er...thanks, Cinder."

Cinder nodded. "No problem. Just take the back door there, before the gorgons try to find you," he said, gesturing briefly to the kitchen door before picking up the tongs and sword he had set down in order to clean up the other man.

Red did as Cinder suggested, and made his way outside. He took a moment to get his bearings, and was rather surprised to discover that he had woken up in a large manor on the outskirts of the city.

"I _know_ I went to sleep at Arachne's," he muttered to himself as he looked around. The sun was shining gently from above--it was already nearly noon. Birds chirruped and twittered in the trees surrounding the estate, and everything seemed peaceful...

"_Cinderella!_" screeched a voice from within the house. Red flinched, but didn't wait around to hear what else the voice might have to say. He took off for the road at a dead run, and sprinted a good way once he had reached it away from Tempus before he allowed himself to slow back to a walk. He did not relish the thought of another encounter with Cinder's step-sisters.

But he knew better than to think he had seen the last of them.


	7. The Prince and the Glass Blower

"CINDERELLA!" 

Cinder heaved an irritated sigh. He brought a hand up so he could pinch the bridge of his nose in what he knew to be a futile attempt to stave off an oncoming headache. Since when was _he_ the servant of the house? They had plenty of paid help who were more than willing to do the sisters' bidding. Or, they _should_ have, anyway. The servants had all quit after Marie had inexplicably turned the footman and the coachman into a dog and horse respectively for displeasing her (something that had rarely happened when they had been plain girls). They hadn't stuck around to have the same fate visited upon them, which was, Cinder figured, really quite a good reason. And so, the task of waiting upon the girls hand and foot fell to him.

Not that Cinder hated his sisters or anything. Before their sudden transformation, he had adored them as if they were his own. The same went for his stepmother, who was a sweet woman toward whom he could hold no ill will. In fact, he loved his stepfamily very much, and would do almost anything for them since they had been kind enough to let him stay with them after his father had kicked the bucket. They'd let him continue his apprenticeship at the glass shop because they knew that he loved working there, and even brought him lunch every day for worry that he would starve himself as he worked the fires...

"CINDERELLA!"

All that was gone now. Oh, his step-mother was still a gentle and very adorable woman who fretted over his dirty clothes and worried about some stranger kidnapping him and demanding ransom for his return (though this was a rather silly worry, as Cinder was twenty years old now and could pick a fight with the best of them), but he barely saw the poor woman anymore due to the sudden bout of bad health that made her unable to oversee things in their spacious home.

Now, he himself had only experienced love once or twice throughout his years, but he was quite sure that it never rendered a man as stupid as some of the suitors that often came to the house asking for Marie and Susan. Nor, it seemed to him, did it normally render an honorable man (in this case, a very top notch man named Ferdinand the Faithful) a misogynistic bastard, who claimed to hate all women, but somehow manage to end up fawning over the two girls anyway. And though affairs were commonplace enough, Cinder was also sure that men who had been with their wives twenty and thirty years and had been perfectly happy with them wouldn't just drop their lady-loves and go chasing after women young enough to be their youngest daughters. 

And that had been the first _week_.

Cinder went about his duties in the house for his sisters, daydreaming of the job he had left in the town in order to cater to their every whim. He thought longingly about the glass works that he made--elegant little statuettes of ballerinas, beautiful ornate wine glasses, wind chimes that made the softest of tinkles...and the time he had been able to steal to spend with his best friend...

Prince William.

-------------------------------

It was at exactly five past twelve when Cinder went on his lunch break and his mother and sisters had either gone off to do some shopping or else returned home to have their own lunch when Prince William appeared, under the secrecy of a cloak, to drag him off to the woods that bordered the town. It had been their ritual every weekday at lunch, ever since the young glass blower had once hidden the heir apparent from his royal entourage of admirers, guards, and hangers-on some years back.

"Hurry up, Cinder." the prince said impatiently, tapping his foot as he waited for the glass-smith to finish packing a few things into a small sack.

"Hold your horses, you royal pain." Cinder snapped back. "We've got plenty of time."

William sniffed. "Says you. Now come on!" Tired of waiting, he grabbed his friend by the arm and began to drag him off.

Cinder rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses so that they wouldn't slip off. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your wonderful mood today, your highness?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from every word. Though he was used to being pulled away from work every day, he was a little surprised at his friend's impatience today. The prince grunted something unintelligible in return, which Cinder translated as a message of slight importance. "Oh, really? That's surprising. An archery tournament. Haven't had one of those since that Robin fellow blew away all the competition five years ago..."

Besides his passion for glass blowing and working, Cinder was into all sorts of sports, such as fencing and wrestling. But the one that he was truly marvelous at was archery. Very few in the kingdom could outdo him (except for his cousin Robin, but he was an out-of-towner, so he really didn't count). One of his many dreams was to enter a tournament and win the grand prize, which was usually almost whatever the winner wanted…

Of course, he wanted to enter this year…but there was a bit of a snag.

"Well, there won't be much of a competition this year." William said as he took a seat under a shady tree. He leaned against the trunk of the tree and removed his cloak off so he wouldn't get too hot. "It's a girls-only tournament. A stupid idea, really. Parents are doing it to get me married."

Cinder gave him a funny look. "Married? What are you, some sort of princess?" he asked incredulously, snickering. The glare that he received from his companion told him that this was no joking matter and that he should be serious about it. Cinder ignored his friend's implication, and continued, "Well, you _should_ be married by now, William." This comment merely resulted in another glare and another grumble from his friend. 

Cinder proceeded to serve them lunch at this point, and there was silence between the two for a while, since it wouldn't be polite to talk with their mouths full. As he was munching on a painstakingly made cucumber sandwich, William turned to study Cinder, his blue eyes shining with a furtive emotion. He swallowed, and continued as though there had never been a pause in the conversation: 

"I'd rather marry you." He told the other man in a dismissive manner, before taking a rather vicious bite out of his sandwich. Cinder merely rolled his eyes in reply, having heard this particular declaration at least once a week since their younger years.

"You don't mean that," he said, looking off into the distance. When they had first met, William had said that line a lot, and he had always become flustered and tried to beat him up for saying such a thing. Of course, the glass blower had been a bit of a wuss back then, as well as small for his age. Only recently had he come to match the prince's height and build, when he'd been graced by a long-overdue growth spurt. And as he had grown, he'd matured as well, so now when William randomly said that he wanted to marry him, he'd just brush it off. "You're going to marry a nice girl and live happily ever after. You _are_ the most charming prince in the lands, after all."

William gazed at him coolly, then shrugged. "I suppose."

And that was the end of that topic.

"So…what are you going to do about the tournament?" Cinder asked randomly as he began to clean up. His lunch break only lasted about an hour and a half, and from what he could tell from the chiming of the clock tower in town, he was going to be a little late getting back--especially if he stalled long enough to get in a bit of training before heading back to the glass shop. "Someone's bound to win it, good shot or no."

"I don't know…I'll think of something." the prince said with a sigh. Cinder clapped him on the shoulder and helped him up to his feet. "Hey, Cinder…you're decent with a bow, aren't you?" 

"Decent?" Cinder asked with a grin. "I could beat you with my arm tied behind my back and blindfolded. But then again…you're probably the worst shot in Tempus, so that's not saying much." He distinctly remembered trying to teach a teenaged Prince William how to use a bow and as a result had discovered first hand how shrilly a grown man could scream. Good thing that passing singer had already been a eunuch--things could have been a bit troublesome, otherwise. The glass blower opened up his pack and pulled out his collapsible bow and his signature arrows, which were made out of glass. William shook his head.

"I don't know how on Earth you can shoot those and not break them." The prince commented, watching everything before him intently. Cinder grinned. 

"Lots of practice and years of experience with glass, my good friend." He explained, stringing up his bow as he spoke. "You could do it, too…if I didn't know you were so inept at it." He teased. William glowered at him, muttering about his friend's tongue, what he could do with it were he so inclined, and exactly how he would have it skewered and flambéed. Cinder merely chuckled, unperturbed.

"Cantankerous prince." He said. 

"Show-off peasant." The prince spat.

"You know you love me." Cinder said. Just as he was turning to look for a prospective target for his arrows, he thought he caught sight of a flicker of a strange emotion cross the prince's usually bored face. It looked to be shock, but he wasn't sure. And it passed so quickly, he thought that he might have just imagined it.

Shaking his head slightly and putting the odd thought from his mind, Cinder made note of a bright red apple hanging from a branch some fifty paces away. He drew his bow, sighted along the shaft, and let the arrow fly. He felt smugly satisfied when, a moment later, the sound of his arrow spearing the hanging apple reached his ears.

"Not bad," William commented dryly. Cinder rolled his eyes, but smiled slightly at the praise. He notched another arrow and let go, aiming at the first apple's nearest neighbor.

-------------------------

Of course, those idyllic hours stolen with William were all well in the past, now. He hadn't been to the glass shop where he did his work for nearly a month--ever since the last of the servants had fled the unpredictable wrath of Marie and Susan. He sorely missed going in to work every day. Even more, though he scarcely allowed himself to admit it, he missed his lunches with Prince William. The blond royal could be quite trying at times, it was true, but he was so comfortable in the other man's company it was easy to overlook his shortcomings.

Cinder's thoughts were abruptly interrupted (as they were so often, these days), not by the screeching of one of his sisters, but by a knock at the front door.

"CINDERELLA! SOMEONE'S AT THE DOOR!"

Well, so much for avoiding the banshee shrieks. Sighing, Cinder made his way from the kitchen (where he had been preparing the evening meal) to the entryway. Fully expecting to see yet another dumb-struck, lovelorn gentleman come to call on his sisters, he was a bit surprised when he opened the door to reveal a perfectly ordinary post-man.

"Message for you, sir," he said, proffering a folded notice of heavy parchment. Cinder took it from him, and the man turned on his heel and hurried off down the drive. Not that the youth could blame him--rumors about the inhabitants of this particular manor were flying about town almost as fast as the two sisters demanded some new random and pointless service from Cinder.

"CINDERELLA! Who was at the door?"

"Just the post," he called, turning the parchment over in his hands. He blinked in surprise when he saw the seal of the Tempus royal family stamped in the green sealing wax. Curious, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

It was an invitation to a masque at Tempus Manor, which was to be held in July. That was all Cinder was able to discern, as the invite was thereafter snatched from his hands while at the same time an irritated feminine voice spoke in his ear.

"Let me see that!"

It was Marie. Sweet Marie, who used to kiss him on the cheek every morning and who had once prayed faithfully every night. She never did either of those things, now, being far more concerned with more material, physical things, like her own beauty and how it affected handsome men. She was now eagerly reading the invitation, almost devouring every word on the parchment. Once she finished, she began cheering, and called Susan over to come and read the letter. The other young woman appeared, and was shortly thereafter squealing in delight and clapping her hands daintily. 

"Oh! A Masquerade! How wonderful." She stated, her white teeth flashing slightly as she smiled. Marie nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

"Oh, yes, dear sister. It's finally time for us to shine!" she said with determination. "We can finally catch the eye of the dreamiest prince in all of the Kingdom." She held out her hands and Susan took them, and they stared with a burning passion into each other's eyes.

"No more shall we be ignored!"

"No longer shall we be outcasts of society!" 

"I will find my true love."

"He will come to me…"

"Even if he didn't choose me! I will be happy knowing he belongs to you!" The girls proclaimed in unison, suddenly all teary eyed. They hugged each other for dear life, as if seeking refuge from the world that didn't care for them…

…Of course, that was all rubbish. At least in Cinder's eyes. But who was he to argue with them? Personally, he'd rather go a day without his ears ringing from their incessant nagging, shrieking and shrill screams that could wake-up the dead (which, now that he thought about it, might have something to do with the sudden spike of zombies lurking about the Castle of Half-Elven some hundreds of miles away). Not to mention their girlish squeals which could make the ears of even a deaf man bleed. He winced, feeling a bit of pity for William, that these two harpies had somehow set their sights on him.

Poor man…ever since that failed tournament to find him a bride, his parents had been desperate to find him a wife--it was something to do with his little sister, Briar Rose, and some sort of curse that would end up dooming their family, or so William said. Of course, Queen Margarete wasn't exactly sound of mind, and King Bartolby was an illiterate boob, so Cinder privately thought that the royal couple was probably just making up tales in order to get their stubborn oldest child to wed.

Cinder gave a small sigh at the thought of the archery tournament. It had been fun to attend, though he hadn't liked it all that much when he had been pulled in to participate as well. He really couldn't fathom why William didn't just pick out any girl he wanted (and he could, considering who he was) and just get married already. Didn't he know that he had a royal duty to his kingdom to continue the family line--especially now, in view of what had happened the other night? It had been the first thing Cinder had heard being announced by the town crier when he'd gone to the market that morning to do the week's shopping--Apparently, huge, impenetrable knots of roses and thorns had grown up overnight and completely covered Tempus Castle. It was said that Princess Briar, her parents, and quite a lot of the castle's servants and staff had been placed into a magical sleep as a result of a curse placed upon the princess by the Wicked Fairy at her christening sixteen years ago. While this was unfortunate news, Cinder didn't think that it was quite the disastrous curse that the King and Queen had been making it out to be. Sure, the inhabitants of the castle might very well sleep for a number of years, but Cinder was sure that sooner or later, some do-gooder prince would hear about the tragic tale of the enchanted princess, brave the perils of the thorny castle, and rescue her from her enchanted slumber.

Of course, he would never admit to himself how relieved he was to know that Prince William had blown off his younger sister's party in favor of doing a bit of hunting over on his estate at the Tempus Mansion. 

Thinking about it now, the masque was probably meant to help find William a spouse in order to continue the Tempus royal line for however long it took the Wicked Fairy's curse to be broken.

"…He's an anti-social one, that William is." Marie said, still gushing on like there was no tomorrow.

"But his rejection makes him all the more attractive!" Susan told her.

"Oh, yes, that is true." Marie agreed. She squealed. "Our Charming Prince!" 

"Our Prince Charming!"

"Oh, what a wonderful thought!" they sang together.

The glass blower shook his head and went to go back to the kitchen, glad to be ignored and able to return to his thoughts about the past…

---------------------

"Over my dead body, William."

"It's a little late to argue by this point, don't you think?" The prince smirked approvingly as he looked his best friend up and down. "I don't know…I think you make a rather fetching girl, _Cinderella_." He laughed as he nimbly dodged a punch meant for his face. He tutted at the young man, wagging a chastising finger at him. "Now, now. Temper, temper, Cinder! Wouldn't want those apples to fall out of the corset I so painstakingly nicked from my mother's boudoir."

"I don't think this is right." Cinder said, trying very hard to breath in rib-crushing corset and dress that he wore. He didn't know how some women could live like this all the time. He could barely take it for a few minutes—and William expected him to do it for a whole day!

"Oh, come on now." William said soothingly. "You're just embarrassed."

"Understatement of the year." Cinder muttered under his breath, crossing his arms in front of his faked bosom. The other man shrugged. "And I wasn't talking about the moral reprehensibility of dressing in drag. No, I'm worried about being caught by your crazy parents and being locked up in jail for the rest of my natural life just because Queen Margarete thinks I'm some sort of pervert--dressing up like a female and trying to win her precious first son's hand in marriage at a tournament meant only for women!"

The prince crossed his own arms and gave him a withering look, showing that he was not in the least amused by what his best friend had just said, especially the bit about his mother. Though he didn't like her all that much, William was still a mama's boy, and no one insulted his mother…at least, not to his face, unless they wanted to get themselves hanged for speaking ill against the Crown. Or unless they were Cinder, he supposed, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

A smile suddenly came upon his aristocratic features and he slid his arms around Cinder's waist, pulling him close in a hug that seemed only borderline brotherly. "Cinder, Cinder, Cinder…I have the utmost faith in you to win this tournament for me." He said softly. "And if you were a girl, I'd marry you and have my lovely little way with you every night, every hour, on the hour, every year for the rest of our lives…"

Cinder squirmed uncomfortably and twisted from his friend's grasp. The blond royal actually sounded sincere, and that concerned him slightly.

"Stop screwing around," he said stiffly, straightening his black wig to hide his discomfort.

"I was being serious," William sniffed, feigning injured innocence. At least, Cinder thought he was feigning...sometimes, even though the two had been friends for years, it was hard to tell when William was being serious. He had such a wry, droll sort of personality it made ascertaining when he was joking somewhat difficult at times.

"Whatever." Cinder rolled his eyes, shoved his glasses up his nose, and fluffed his skirts in what he figured was an appropriate feminine manner. 

"Not like that!" William exclaimed. "You look like a scullery maid beating the dust out of a rug!"

"Like you're such an expert!" Cinder retorted.

"No, I'm not. But I'm clearly more observant than you. Do it like this." 

And before he could stop him, William had moved around behind Cinder and wrapped his arms once again around his waist, though this time he used his hands to gently fluff the front of Cinder's skirts. His hands brushed lightly along Cinder's thighs as he did this, and Cinder shivered slightly.

"There. You look lovely." William said, withdrawing his arms and placing his hands on Cinder's shoulders, nudging him into turning around.

"Get stuffed," Cinder grumbled, glaring sullenly at his friend. William merely raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

"I love you too," he said playfully, patting Cinder's cheek. 

"You. Owe. Me." Cinder informed him.

"Mmmmm," William agreed. "Now knock 'em dead, sugar,"

"I'd rather knock _you_ dead," Cinder muttered, but went to do as William asked anyway.

The archery tournament was being held in the large field to the east of town. A long row of stands had been set up facing south so that interested townsfolk would have a place to sit and watch the festivities. The private boxes which were occupied by the Tempus family and a few visiting dignitaries were situated in the center of the stands. Colorful pavilions were set up on the eastern side of the field, with enough room to comfortably house the nearly one-hundred contestants who had turned up to participate in the tournament.

"...Bloody, annoying royal...thinks he's the boss of me, well, I'll show him...Ironic Overpower only knows why I even bother doing anything for him, that rotten, stupid, spoiled..." The young man continued with his dark muttering, not bothering to disguise his voice or the way he stomped about angrily as he made his way to the line-up. It was only when he accidentally bumped into another man did he get his act together.

"Terribly sorry, Miss." the man said, sweeping a curtain of platinum blond hair from his face. He held out a hand for Cinder to take, smiling apologetically at him. Cinder took it, blushing just a bit. "I was just in a hurry and didn't see...will you be alright?" he asked, the smile never leaving his rather attractive features.

"Y-yes, sir!" Cinder assured him in a falsetto voice. The man nodded, smiled, and gently brushed Cinder's knuckles with his lips before heading to the stands. Cinder watched him go, and was surprised when he was joined by two girls he hadn't expected to see at the tournament. Marie and Susan!

He watched the trio seat themselves in the stands, and studied the faces of his two step-sisters as closely as he could, given the distance. They looked to be quite enamored of the handsome noble--not that he could really blame them, of course...it _was_ rather rare for them to be receiving much attention from a male--much less one as handsome as the blond stranger.

Well...there was probably no harm in them keeping him company for the afternoon. Besides, he had more pressing worries, such as...

"Alright ladies! We're ready to get this tournament underway, so please line up in front of the stands with your bows at the ready!" 

...that.

He sighed, but hurried to join the bustling crowd of females – some of whom were most ridiculously bedecked in silks and brocades. Clearly they had no idea what they were about on the archery range—they were obviously only participating as a result of the prize: The hand of one Prince William in holy wedded matrimony.

_Alright_, Cinder thought to himself, doing his best to not panic with the situation at hand. _You're in a dress and fighting tooth and arrow against dozens of desperate women who are all trying to get hitched to your best friend, with apples for breasts that are stuck inside a corset that aforementioned best friend stole from his own mother, a woman who will have your head on a silver platter if anyone finds out you're not really female._ He paused his current line of thinking to re-evaluate it, and realized that it might be more practical to start panicking after all.

_Ah, fudge buckets._

"Relax little cousin," whispered the pretty blonde next to him, "or you'll look quite constipated when you shoot…and you look dreadful enough in that pink dress as is…Where did you get it from? Susan's closet?"

Cinder blinked at this stranger who was talking to him so freely and personally, trying furiously to figure out who this could possibly be. It took him about three seconds to work out why the girl next to him was so familiar. He spluttered in shock. "Robin!" he cried out, inadvertently catching the notice of a few ladies and some nearby soldiers. The blond shushed him, clamping a hand over his mouth.

"Quiet!" Robin hissed. "Do you want them to figure out who we really are?" Cinder removed his infamous cousin's hand from his mouth and glared at him over the tops of his glasses as they took their places side by side.

"Oh? And what exactly do you think _you're_ doing here?" he asked. 

"Why…participating, of course. This _is_ an archery tournament." Robin replied matter of factly.

"An archery tournament for _girls_!" Cinder all but snarled at him. A soldier walked past the two of them and he shut up for the moment, busying himself with his bow and avoiding the soldier's questioning gaze. When the man had moved off further down the line, his cousin spoke again.

"And what about you, little cousin?" Robin inquired as he tugged at a lock of black hair from the wig. The handsome-man-made-pretty-woman then grinned in a way that wasn't comely or feminine at all, momentarily spoiling the looks he had obviously spent hours painstakingly acquiring. "Shame you never inherited any of Aunt Lilian's looks. You look quite plain as a girl." He commented, amusement clear in his voice.

"Shut up and shoot, you…you…you…immoral cross-dresser!"

Robin snorted. "Takes one to know one." he told the other man as he watched him notch a glass arrow. The thief king raised an eyebrow at this, but began the task of taking aim himself.

"Just don't do anything stupid." Cinder said irritably as he let the arrow fly at the command of the announcer.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, cousin. Marian wouldn't forgive me if I let her favorite cousin fall into the clutches of an evil little witch and not his One True Love."

The first round of arrows flew and already half the competition had been weeded out, with Robin, Cinder and a few others at the top with perfect shots. Many cheered for their favorite girl; family members and others who had no doubt just won a wager of some sort. Robin looked over to the stands and nodded pleasantly at one of the royals sitting under the shade in the private box. A lovely red-haired woman saw him and waved enthusiastically in return. Cinder assumed that she was Robin's lovely Maid Marian.

"She's beautiful." Cinder said, getting ready to shoot again.

Robin grinned. "I know." He notched an arrow. "…It's really too bad that you have your sights on the Crown Prince, or you'd enjoy her beauty more." He grinned as Cinder lost his concentration, almost missing his mark completely. Luckily for him, the rules for the all-female tournament were rather lax, so as long as he hit somewhere on the target, he could continue to the next round…until the finals, where only perfect shots counted for the win.

"I do _not_ like the prince!" the young man snapped, wanting to punch his cousin's face in for even suggesting such a stupid thing. 

"Oh really? Then why else would you be competing in this farcical tournament?"

"Because --" Cinder paused, unable to explain further. His friendship with William was a secret, so he couldn't just out and say 'because he's making me!' "Because I like competing in archery tournaments just as well as you do," he said instead, pleased with himself for coming up with a reasonable excuse.

"Pfft," Robin made a disbelieving noise. "I always did have you pegged as the last one to know he was in love."

"I. Am. Not. In. Love." Cinder growled, gritting his teeth and carefully enunciating each word.

"No, I suppose not," Robin seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then a wicked grin split his face, and he continued, "You're in denial."

The whistle indicating that the contestants should fire blew, and the next few moments were filled with the dull 'thunk's made by numerous arrows embedding in their targets.

"Sometimes, Robin, I really hate you." Cinder glared at his green-tipped glass arrow, which had not found its mark exactly as he had intended--it was several inches off-center.

"It's not my fault you're such a lousy shot," Robin quipped, smirking.

"If you don't shut up soon, I won't be responsible for my actions." 

"What? You mean you're going to go on over to the royal box and start snogging the prince here and now? I wouldn't blame you if you did--were I attracted to other men, I'd do the exact same thing."

It was fortunate that the officials of the tournament took that exact moment to call for a break, so that the targets could be re-set and so that the contestants would have a bit of time for refreshment. Cinder might very well have blown his cover by decking Robin square in the face were it not for the distraction. 

Eager to be away from his cousin's infuriating company, Cinder stalked off in the direction of the open-air tents, which had been set up along the side of the field for the use of the ladies participating in the tournament.

As soon as he found himself a seat, he was immediately pulled off to the side by a very familiar cloaked man, who dragged him off into a narrow, dark corner beneath the spectator stands where they wouldn't be disturbed. Pulling his hood down, William stared at Cinder, his face set into a pout rather than an expression of anger. "What the bloody hell, Cinder?" he asked, sounding just a tad distressed. "You're being out-shot by a blonde tart!" he nearly exclaimed.

Cinder glowered back, but held his tongue. He couldn't just say that it was his cousin Robin in disguise, as it was as much of a secret that the man was related to him as it was that William was his best friend behind the scenes. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. "She made me!"

William stared at him incredulously. "She _made_ you," he repeated, after nearly a full minute of silence.

"She keeps saying obnoxious things...she's distracting me!"

"So ignore her!" William exclaimed. "I can already tell what an arrogant little cow she is, just by watching her shoot her bow! And since she's beating you, that means I'm going to have to _marry_ her! Cinder, _you have to win!_"

There was real desperation in William's tone. Cinder stared at him, surprised. Even his usual stand-offish, aristocratic mask had slipped somewhat--he looked as desperate as he sounded. For some reason, this made Cinder feel really...strange. He didn't want to see his friend like...like this. This wasn't like William at all.

Swallowing the sudden inexplicable lump of emotion that had welled in his throat, Cinder said, as calmly as he could, "Of course I'll win."

Relief spread over the prince's face--for a split second. It was all business once again a moment later when all the ladies were called back to the archery range for the next round. William gave him a quick, non-committal hug before rushing off to his seat, spouting off excuses about being away for too long. Cinder blinked, wondering at the strange feeling in his chest, before brushing it aside and trudging back to the range, fluffing up his skirts as he went.

With all the bad shots (mainly, the non-serious girls who clearly had very little idea what they were doing) gone, the tournament went much faster. And with his new determination and focus setting in, Cinder was able to ignore his irritating cousin enough so that he could shoot straight. And since those silly girls were gone, it meant that the competition was much fiercer, and many dirty and underhanded tactics were now being employed. Tripping, jinxing, unsightly bodily noises—what have you--were being done left and right in an attempt to make another competitor miss her shot. It worked quite well, too. Many archers dropped out because of these tricks, which the judges either did not see or were simply ignoring.

By the time the finals came about, nearly everyone had been pranked in some terrible manner except for Cinder, Robin, and two other girls who were, in Cinder's humble opinion, absolute ogres. One looked like a horse with her long and somber face, while the other seemed to be some sort of scary Amazon.

Cinder was sweating profusely, both from pressure and from standing out in the sun for hours. He was sure that his face was getting sunburned. Good lord, he must be as red as an apple by now! But he had to persevere…for William! His best friend's future was on the line…no way was he letting either of those two ugly trolls get his best friend's hand.

Robin was up for another shot and got a perfect bull's eye—as he was prone to doing. He gave Cinder a flirtatious wink, which merely caused Cinder to roll his eyes. All four archers had six bull's eyes each, more or less, and from the look of things…From here on out, the amount of stamina each individual had left would determine who won William. The more fatigued a person got, the more likely they'd make a mistake. Unfortunately, it seemed to Cinder that neither of the remaining two females still hadn't broken a sweat, while he was constantly pushing his glasses back up his nose because they kept sliding down. 

Oh, but there was going to be trouble. He could feel it in his bones as they went for their seventh shot—seventh bull's eye to the cheering crowd behind them. And how right he was. Just as the horse-faced girl was drawing her bow for her eighth shot, the string suddenly snapped in half and struck her in the face. Blood splattered, and her bow clattered to the ground as she pressed her hands to her bleeding eyelid. Poor thing. She already looked dreadful, but now she was probably going to get a scar. Cinder felt a little sorry for her, but was glad that there was now one less person to contend with.

He just hoped that he wasn't going to get into an accident himself. And could he beat Robin? Not that Robin was much of a threat when it came to marrying William; he loved Marion after all, and actually thought that playing for the other team was rather disgusting, though he rarely voiced this opinion within Cinder's hearing. It was the Amazon woman he should be worried about. She had probably cut the other girl's bowstring when she hadn't been looking. Yes, that must have been what happened. Robin would never cheat--especially in an archery tournament!

Cinder caught the woman's gaze and glared at her for all he was worth. She stared back coolly, one fine eyebrow arched in distain. Cinder scowled. There was _no way_ he was going to let _her_ win. 

Arrows flew! String twanged and for many a minute did these expert shots play out their drama, matching arrow for arrow. They never stopped shooting, just adding one arrow on top of the last one in complete succession. The crowd was in awe as they watched the two supposed females and one real female try to outdo one another. Robin's shots were by far the best out of the three, as he let loose every arrow with incredible speed and finesse, though it was still quite apparent how arrogantly he shot at the target.

In fact, everyone could hear Maid Marion groan in disbelief when Robin's ego got so inflated that he disqualified himself because he shot a bull's eye on the Amazon's target.

"What the hell was that?" Cinder hissed into his cousin's ear as Robin packed up his things, not looking downtrodden at all. He was acting almost as if he had planned on throwing the match from the beginning--the very idea! The two had retired briefly to one of the now empty tents reserved for the contestants. Now empty because most of the losers had not wanted to stick around to find out who would win, and so had left as soon as they had gathered their belongings.

"Just a little bad luck, is all." Robin answered cheerfully. He looked at his little cousin, and then ruffled up his wig a bit, grinning hugely. "Besides…who else will save your behind when they call you up so they can marry you to Prince-boy once you've won the contest, eh?" He laughed as he fled the scene, avoiding the quiet curses and punches hurled at his back as he ran away, away. He bravely ran away. 

And so...this was it. It was down to a battle between Cinder and the Amazon girl. Squaring his shoulders resolutely, Cinder walked back out into the late afternoon sun, gripping his bow in his left hand.

It was grueling work; the sun was blazing down on Cinder's right side, and the heat of the day was still much as it ever was. He was soaked in sweat, and was pleased to note that the Amazon girl wasn't fairing much better at this stage--her dress was just as soaked in sweat as his. There was a look of grim determination on her face, and every so often Cinder caught her glaring at him from the corner of his eye. He did his best to ignore her, trying to remain focused completely on his target at all times. 

The afternoon wore on, and it seemed only a moment or two before the sun had touched down on the western horizon. Each time Cinder and his competition fired resulted in two bull's eyes. He could sense the crowd was getting restless. He also thought he could sense a particular pair of ice-blue eyes focused intently on his back, though he would be the first to claim that he was just imagining _that_.

Even so, the knowledge that his friend was watching spurred him onward when all he really wanted to do was toss aside his bow and call it a day.

Finally, however, the judges realized that the battle of wills between the two final contestants might very well go on indefinitely. It was clear to them that both women were very tired. They called for a break just as the sun dipped completely behind the hills to the west, and held a small conference to decide what to do.

Cinder sat, alone in one of the little pavilions, keeping a careful eye on the Amazon to make sure that she did not come too near. He still suspected her of being the cause of the horse-faced girl's tragic accident, and would be damned if he allowed her even the slightest opportunity to do something similar to him.

After about fifteen minutes, the judges announced that there would be a final three shots for each of the remaining contestants. They sent one of the tourney officials to gather arrows from the targets and return them to their owners. 

Cinder watched as the blond, uniformed man handed three arrows first to the Amazon, and then make his way over to where Cinder was sitting.

"You sure are fighting awfully hard to win the hand of someone you don't even seem to like," the official whispered as he handed Cinder the three arrows he was to use in the final rounds.

"What?" Cinder exclaimed, staring in complete surprise at the official.

"I think you heard me well enough, cousin," the man winked and grinned roguishly, stroking his ratty beard with a certain amount of satisfaction.

"Robin!"

"Not so loud, please!" Robin's eyes darted about shiftily. "Look, since you're so dead set on winning, just make sure you don't miss the target during these last rounds, hmm? Honestly, the things I do for you..." with that, he sketched a polite bow and strode off. Cinder watched him go in complete bemusement. Of all the thoughts he could have been having at that moment, the one that seemed most relevant at that very odd moment was, _where on earth did Robin get that natty false beard?_ It looked truly terrible, Cinder thought with some amusement.

"Contestants to the fore, please!" 

Shaking his head at the mysteries surrounding his capricious cousin, Cinder stood and made his way back out to the archery range, which had been lit up with multitudes of blazing torches, now that the sun had retired for the night.

The whistle blew, and Cinder withdrew one of the three arrows from his quiver and fitted it to his bow, waiting for the signal to release. It came, and a moment later the sound "_thunk-thunk!_" could be heard as his and the Amazon's arrows found the center of their respective targets. 

Cinder wiped his brow with his sleeve, careful not to knock his wig askew. Only two more shots after this, and then the judges would call it quits for the day, and the contest would be resumed upon the morrow.

A second whistle blew, and Cinder repeated his previous action; draw, aim, fire.

_thunk-thunk._

Two more bull's-eyes, and only one left to be made before he could retire for the night. His eyes smarted from being out in the bright sun all day, and his face felt hot with what he knew was going to be a painful sunburn, come morning. Not only that, but his shoulders and arms ached from the constant repetitive firing he had been doing all day. Only one more shot to go, he told himself, and after that he could return home and sleep...

The whistle blew a third time, and Cinder carefully withdrew his last arrow. He took extra care with his aim, and fired when the signal was given. 

_thunk._

There was a very slight pause, where Cinder's heart caught in his throat. He had missed! Somehow, he had completely missed his target! But no, as he heard the crowd begin to cheer (Surprisingly, many folks had stayed, despite the long hours the contest had taken; it seemed that there were many people who were interested in seeing who would be their prince's new bride), he could see the dull glint of his glass arrow in the torchlight, embedded firmly in the very center of his target. It was the Amazon who had somehow, amazingly, missed her mark.

Cinder felt a little numb as he was led away by one of the officials. He had won. He had really won. Of course, he was almost sure he had won by illicit means thanks to meddling by his cousin's hand, but he had won all the same! He tried to find William in the crowd as he was pulled ever further away from the cheering audience, the archery range— 

Cinder blinked. Just where was he? He glanced about himself, finding that he had been led--no, _carried!_--far away from where the tournament had been. He could hear loud whistles in the distance, shouts, and dogs. He blinked. Just how far had he gone? "Huh? Where—"

"You know…I've heard of shock making a man catatonic, but I've never had the pleasure of experiencing it for myself. You are _heavy_, cousin." Said Robin as he set a very surprised Cinder down onto his feet. Flashing his younger cousin a grin, he ripped off his fake beard (not exactly a smart move, as he'd had to glue it onto his face so it wouldn't look _too_ fake) with one go, and cursed colorfully at the sting of ripping it from his skin. After a moment, he begin removing his disguise to reveal his usual tunic and traditional pair of tights. "Ah, that's better…now…to run off with you into the night, fair cousin! Before the guards find that you're a man, and not a woman at all. Tally ho!"

---------------------

"CINDERELLA! I'm HUNGRY! When is supper?" Susan's banshee shriek cut into Cinder's reminiscing. Glancing at the simple but hearty meal he'd been preparing as he thought, he reckoned he had about ten minutes left before he could serve his sisters in their private parlor. 

"Give me fifteen minutes!" he called back, adding a bit of time to his estimate just to be on the safe side. It was far better to be slightly early than slightly late in this house. 

"HURRY _UP_, will you?" called Marie irritably. "You're so SLOW!"

Cinder sighed and made no response, returning to making the final preparations for the sisters' meal. He himself would be eating on his own in the kitchen, as he had taken to doing since his sisters' horrible transformation. 

Reflecting back once more, he realized that he still owed Robin for getting him out of that potentially dangerous situation--that was not something he particularly liked to think about. Given his current situation at home, though, it was nice to know that he still had family members who cared for him, even if they _were_ arrogant arses.

"CINDER_ELLA_!" 

_Yes_, Cinder mused as he portioned the food he'd prepared for his sisters. _I'll definitely take an arrogant arse over a shrieking harpy any day._


	8. Misery

What started out as a bad morning for Cinder the next day when he woke up became much worse almost as soon as he crawled from bed. In fact, it was probably the worst morning in the history of his short human life. First off, the house had been rather deceptively quiet when he'd come downstairs from the attic (a room he had moved into of his own free will, because it was large and private, and a place his sisters wouldn't step foot for fear of spiders or something equally silly). Secondly, he found himself being dragged into town (still dressed in his pajamas) by one of the mansion's former maids and into the glass shop where his sisters were making a ruckus. Thirdly, after he'd sent the harpies shrieking off back to their home, he suddenly found himself drafted at the glass shop...

...by _William_.

"B-but...what are you doing here?" the young man sputtered, before he remembered his manners and bowed. In public they weren't acquaintances, let alone 'best friends'. The spectacled man blinked in confusion as William sneered at him with a cold, unfamiliar look in his eyes. "William?"

"And who are you," the prince spat coldly, "to talk to me in such a way, _peasant?_" His words threw Cinder for a loop. Possibly two. As much of an ass as Cinder knew William could be, he could not recall a time when the prince had ever spoken to him in such a fashion. He never acted as his station meant anything (unless he was trying to get his way, but even then, he just acted like a spoilt brat who was a pain in the posterior). Yet here he was, glaring at his lunch-time companion as if all the time they'd spent together over the years meant nothing to him.

Oddly enough, Cinder felt hurt.

"My most sincere apologies, your majesty," Cinder said woodenly, sketching another bow. If it had been William by himself, he wouldn't have bothered. Unfortunately, the prince was accompanied by several high-ranking servants, who would no doubt be shocked and appalled to learn of their prince's casual friendship with such a base commoner. "Please tell your humble servant if there is any way at all that he can assist your esteemed self."

William sniffed haughtily, making it perfectly clear to Cinder that the blond royal highly doubted his ability to 'assist'. "I need glassware," he said, turning away from Cinder and leaning imperiously on the counter to begin studying the articles for display on the shelves behind. "My men have the orders all drawn up for you," with a gesture, William indicated that one of his accompanying servants was to hand over the relevant documents. Cinder took the heavy sheaf of papers from the man with numb fingers, his eyes still fixed disbelievingly on the back of his friend's head.

"You will, of course, be well compensated for your time," the prince continued, turning back to regard Cinder with his icy stare. "I expect the lot no later than the tenth of next month. Someone will be down to collect the order then."

And then, with not even a small sign of farewell, the prince swept from the shop, followed closely by his servants. Cinder stared dumbly after, watching through the shop's front window as the Prince disappeared inside his royal carriage, and the whole procession trundled off, back to (Cinder assumed) Tempus Manor.

Once the whole entourage was completely out of sight, Cinder turned to look at the documents in his hands. He tore open the seal and shifted quickly through the papers--absently noting the large amount of glass dishware the shop was meant to produce in a little over two weeks--searching for some word or missive from William. The two hadn't spoken for a month, not since the farcical archery tournament--and ever since Cinder's sisters had...changed.

There was...nothing. No letter, no note, not even a scribbled "_Do your best, you dirty peasant! Nya haha!" _left for him to find somewhere in a margin. Just lists of items and quantities, each with specific instructions for style and weight.

Cinder was astonished to find that he felt like crying.

He looked down at the list and was mortified when a few words blurred here and there, and that his glasses were beginning to fog up. Sniffling, he stuffed the list away in a pocket, and made his way to the back of the shop where his master had secreted himself to request a month's stay. At the moment, he didn't care about his sisters--didn't want to think about the consequences of his actions for once. Let the bloody harpies look out for themselves! He didn't want to have time to think about William and his sudden change in demeanor. Even on the prince's worst days, he had never been treated so coldly!

Cinder took off his glasses and quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve, getting soot all over his face. He sniffled again.

How did life go so wrong?

-------------------------

How in the world had his life gone so wrong? Red usually asked himself this at least once a day, and had for as far back as he could remember. He would have liked to blame it on the day he'd first met Wolf, but he realized that shifting the blame in this case, no matter how tempting it was, wouldn't accomplish much. He knew that the current spiral of doom his life was descending into had less to do with Wolf and more to do with the terrible thing he had just done to the Princess--_Prince--_of Tempus. To say that he felt sorry would have been an understatement. On the other hand, though, he was currently feeling sorrier for himself than for Princess--er--Prince Briar Rose. All Briar had to do for the next who-knew-how-many-years was sleep peacefully as he waited for his Prince Charming. What _Red_ had to do, on the other hand, was nowhere near as easy.

Before him, for the second time in as many days, loomed the Castle of Half-Evil. Dark clouds circled around its high turrets, and lightning struck at the mountain the castle stood upon at fairly regular intervals. Occasionally, the hooded young man could hear the sounds of someone's desperate cries of despair from within that dark fortress, and it made him shudder, wondering if that was to be his fate one day.

Tugging his hood securely down and making sure he had a firm grip on his basket, Red strode across the narrow bridge to the front gates with as much confidence as he could muster. Once he had made his report, he could leave, and there would be no reason at all for him to ever have to return.

He hoped.

As they had the previous day, the great doors swung open slightly, seemingly of their own accord, once he neared them. Shivering a little in foreboding, Red slipped through the opening and into the castle, where he was once again met by an over-large arachnid.

"Why, hello there, my sweet little morsel!" the matronly spider cooed, shoving its face right up next to Red's. The baker squidged his eyes shut and stood still, rooted to the spot, as the spider began fussing with his hood and straightening his clothes. His heart was beating so quickly and so loudly he was sure that the enormous horror could hear it.

"I take it your mission was a success," it went on serenely, seemingly completely unaware of the affect it was having on Red. "That's so wonderful!" it clapped its two front-most claws together in delight. "Wicked will be soooo pleased, I'm sure! Come along now, come along now, my dear, we mustn't keep him waiting!" and with that, the spider went skittering off into the dark, gloomy depths of the castle. Red waited several moments before he could bring himself to follow.

This second journey through the shadowy interior of the Castle of Half-Evil went much as the previous one, with Red's heart lodged in his throat and Red himself teetering on the very edge of screaming in terror.

"Here we are, my dear," the spider said pleasantly at length. Red tried to ignore the behemoth as he walked up to and past it into Wicked's receiving hall.

"Red!"

He had no time at all to even attempt to recover his composure before the purple fairy had swooped down on him, gathering him into a delighted embrace. Red found his face smashed against Wicked's lithe neck and his body pressed firmly against Wicked's hard, muscular torso. The cloying scent of lavender filled his nostrils as a lock of the fairy's deep purple hair brushed his nose. Wicked's arms were like steel bands around his body, both tenderly holding him and trapping him at the same time.

"Oh, I missed you so much!" the Wicked Fairy cooed, rubbing his face delightedly in Red's hair. It seemed that, for all his precautions in tugging his hood firmly into place beforehand, the piece of material had had no chance against the violent affection of the Fae. "I'm so happy you came back! I had news of your success almost as soon as you did the deed, it seems—That meddlesome Goody Trio wasted no time in coming to confront me about their poor, innocent little princess! Oh, I am so pleased!" With one last snuggle that left Cinder feeling glad he hadn't had any breakfast that morning, the Wicked Fairy set him back on his feet and withdrew very slightly. One softly gloved hand still gently caressing his face.

Feeling more than just a little freaked out--what with meeting up with that blasted spider again and then nearly being smushed to death in Wicked's decidedly manly embrace--Red pulled away with a quick and apologetic bow, in case he offended the Fae. Luckily for him, Wicked was obviously in a very good mood as he merely chuckled at his rather panicked antics. The red-cloaked man reached inside his basket, rummaged carefully through it, then pulled out the cursed spindle. Holding it carefully, he presented it to the Wicked Fairy. A thought occurred to him, and he decided to hand it over to the fae on bended knee.

"Your spindle returned...as ordered." he said. Red didn't look as the offending thing was lifted from his hands and thereafter nonchalantly inspected by Wicked.

"Wonderful work, my sweet," Wicked cooed, stroking the enchanted spindle almost carelessly with one velvet-gloved finger. His deep purple eyes seemed to glow as he gazed down at Red through heavy black lashes. Red tried to suppress a shudder and think of other, happier things...like getting the hell out of there.

"My mission is complete, and I have reported back as requested," Red said, climbing to his feet. Bowing again, he continued, "And so, I'll just be going now..."

He turned to make good on his word, but froze a moment later when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Wicked tsked, and gathered Red's suddenly unresponsive body carefully back into his arms.

"Now, now," the violet one purred, placing his face nose-to-nose with Red's. "You've only just arrived! It would be such a shame if you were to leave so soon!"

"But-but-but," Red managed to stammer out, "I h-have other ch-chores! I-I don't have t-time!"

"Nonsense!" Wicked exclaimed, cuddling Red close. Red had a sudden, awful premonition—the Fae still held the cursed needle; what was to stop him from pricking Red with it? "It's been faar too long since our last encounter, my dear one...and you've grown up so nicely in that time!" As he spoke, the Fae began walking, striding confidently on his bare feet from the receiving hall and out into the corridors. "Surley you can spare a few hours for little ol' me, since we've been apart for so long?"

_I'd rather be with Wolf!_ The errant thought came unbidden to his mind, but, shocking as it was, he realized it was true. The previous day he had thought he would prefer the slimy Fae's company to that of Wolf's, but now that he was _in_ Wicked's company, he knew that he'd made a huge error in judgment. Wolf, while perverted, scruffy, and sometimes severely lacking in personal hygiene, would also, as far as Red knew, never try to take advantage of him without his consent. He hadn't once touched Red in the ten years they'd known each other, (the occasional friendly grope notwithstanding) after all. That had to count for something.

Wicked, on the other hand, clearly was not going to take 'no' for an answer.

"Reed…you weren't just thinking about someone else, were you?" Wicked asked coyly. The Fae had reached his destination by this point – a rather large, if somewhat empty, room. Seating himself on the lone chair in the center of the dark, gloomy space, Wicked shifted Red so that the young man was sitting in his lap. He held up the spindle, and Red had to fight from flinching as the Fae ran it along his cheek. He stared at the needle at the end, still dotted with a bit of Briar Rose's blood, as it moved along his skin and, thankfully, not quite piercing it…yet. For there was no doubt now in Red Reaper's mind now that this crazed Fae was going to use it against him. The man had to fight from letting out a pathetic whimper. He had to do something before he was in real trouble. "Because…it would just be such a shame…"

"N-no…r-r-really. I have to be getting along now, Wicked Fairy, sir." Red stammered, trying to move away without getting himself punctured into slumber-land. He vaguely remembered how the spindle worked on people who weren't the princess--er--youngest prince of Tempus. And he surely didn't want to have to come under Wicked's perverted hands because he fell asleep on the job. The man felt like crying again, just so he could try to summon his godmother for some help, but his eyes didn't seem to be working properly—certainly he was terrified enough to want to bawl his eyes out, but for some reason, the tears just wouldn't come.

Wicked smiled down at Red, holding his rather panicked gaze, and tightened his hold on the younger man as he tutted softly. He lowered his face to nuzzle Red's neck, finding much delight in how this caused the baker to freeze. It was really too amusing for him. He brought the spindle beneath Red's cloak and let it trail up along the man's spine, smirking as he shuddered and arched into him in an attempt to get away from the needle.

_Oh, god! Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god, oh, god, oh, god…somebody help me!_ Red thought to himself, trying to block out what was happening. Normally, when a guy tried molesting him, he'd have many ways of deterring the pervert--and then some--so he could run away for his dear, dear life. In this case, however, one false move meant that he could be toast. He needed to make a plan of escape! Where had his dastardly genius mind gone to?

"Eeeeeyargh!" Red shrieked as he felt Wicked's tongue on his neck.

Alright, so his mind had obviously clocked out for the duration. Poor Red.

_Where's Wolf when you need him?_ Red thought to himself as he felt the smallest of pricks on his behind. It was like a very small, almost unnoticeable pinch of skin. He blinked, and suddenly felt very tired. His eyes were heavy and his body felt numb…

"My darling Red, you need to relax more…" Wicked purred as he cradled Red, who was soon lost in a deep, deep sleep. Straightening from his seated position, he swooped Red's unresisting body into his arms and conjured a mattress and lots of cushions. He placed him upon the cushions, smirking. "Ah, my little Red…you weigh almost nothing…Did you know that? Oh, you look so sweet lying like this…" A gloved hand came up to stroke a freckled cheek. "…And now you're mine…and only mine…for a very long time. We're going to have fun playing together, aren't we?"

Wicked growled softly as he undid the ties of Red's cheerful little cape, looming over him. Cheerfully, he kissed the spindle in his hand before tossing it carelessly over his shoulder.

"Oh, yes. We're going to have so much _fun_."

------------------------------

"I'd weep, but I think I've gone into the 'no crying zone', Arachne." Cinder said as he poked at his food. It was his lunch break at the glass shop. Usually he'd spend the time with William out in the fields near the forest (and he _had_ waited to see if the prince would come take him away as he always had before), but with no sign of the irritating blond royal, he'd decided it best if he took his meal with a friendly face instead of eating by himself. That friendly face had ended up being Arachne, his childhood friend, whose shop was just down the street from his own. "Then again…I am a man. And men don't exactly pour their hearts out and cry like little nancy boys."

Arachne (who had just changed her hair color to electric blue early that morning) sighed and poured some tea for the younger man, who gratefully accepted it and drank it all down in one gulp, never mind the scalding heat. "Men cry. I've seen it before. They just…do it way deep down, inside their hearts, is all…" she told him, rather lamely. She had never been good at cheering people up. Her best tactic when dealing with unhappy people was to chat up a storm and hope for the best.

"He's your best friend, Cinder. I'm sure he's just all stressed out because of what happened to his family and the fact that the responsibility of the kingdom has just fallen on his shoulders."

"He didn't have to be such a cold jerk about it." Cinder spat, setting his teacup down with more force than really necessary.

"Prince William has always been a jerk." Arachne pointed out as she re-filled Cinder's teacup. "Especially to women. Makes me wonder who I should feel more sorry for…William or the poor wretch he's going to have to marry." She continued, frowning just a bit. She looked at her friend to see how he would react to this bit of gossip, and was surprised when he got up from his seat and went to beat his head against the wall.

"CINDER!" Cinder stopped mid-bash to regard her. A small trickle of blood made its way slowly down his forehead.

"What?"

"What are you _doing?_" Arachne exclaimed.

"My mother is ill, my sisters have turned into evil harpies, and my best friend hates me. Excuse me as I get emotional about this." He hit his head another time against the wall, earning him quite the splitting headache. "And as if that weren't enough…my cousin is a two-bit thief who runs around wearing tights with a bunch of sweaty men all day, and he's a cheat and a liar besides."

Arachne gave him a look, puzzled. "What?"

Cinder shook his head and sat back down. He picked up a napkin and dunked it into his tea. Once it was sufficiently damp, he began to clean himself up with it. "Never mind, Arachne…Life just sucks right now…" He didn't particularly feel like explaining anything to the woman—at least, not properly. For if he did, that meant explaining about William and himself, not to mention their little meetings out in the woods and the archery tournament and Robin—good heavens, Robin! He sighed.

Arachne looked at him worriedly. Before he'd met William, she and Cinder had spent a lot of time together as the best of friends. They'd played lots of games together, their favorite being 'make believe'. He had always pretended to be the dashing ranger (even as a child, he loved the bow and arrow), while she would be his beloved ageless elf lady. They had even shared a few slightly naughty kisses once Cinder had become interested in that sort of thing, and even though nothing had come of it afterwards--

"Ouch! Damn, did I hurt myself?" Cinder muttered quietly, carefully probing his abused forehead.

"Of course, you did, silly!" Arachne chastised.

--Arachne still cared enough for Cinder that seeing him like this broke her heart. She had to do something, but what?

The seamstress sighed as she stood up to go and get a proper washcloth. She soaked it in cool water, wrung it out, and then brought it over to the young glass-smith. She carefully removed his glasses, took his napkin away, and began to gently clean away the blood and soot from his face. She gave him a small smile as he looked at her.

"So, tell me, Cinder…What's really got you so worked up about our esteemed Crowned Prince?"

He hadn't wanted to tell her--he hadn't intended to at all, actually. But there was so much love and sympathy in her green eyes that he felt himself give in. As best he could, he explained to her the details of their odd relationship. She finished cleaning his face and sat back down across the table from him, and still he continued to talk.

"He practically proposes marriage to me every time we see each other," Cinder found himself saying. "And he always sounds so serious! But then, he's always serious. I don't think I've ever heard him crack a joke since I've known him, and I've known him for a while now! And that's another thing..."

Arachne listened quietly as Cinder babbled, watching him carefully as he talked. She only interrupted when she glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that Cinder's lunch break had been over for about ten minutes.

"Cinder, love," she broke in gently, just as the man was beginning to spin off on yet another William-centric tangent.

"What?" he asked, blinking owlishly at her from behind his glasses.

"Why don't we finish talking later? You need to get back to work," she told him. Cinder spun around and looked at the clock, then cursed. Picking up his practically uneaten lunch, he stood and hurried out of the kitchen and into Arachne's cluttered shop. The seamstress followed behind him and saw him out the door. When she turned, she caught sight of her mother, lurking quietly in the shadows at the back of the shop.

"How much did you hear?" she asked, closing the door.

"Enough," Arachnia responded in her dry voice.

"What do you reckon?"

"Sounds besotted to me."

"That's what I thought, too," Arachne said, tapping her chin thoughtfully with one finger.

"You're planning something," her mother accused, but with a hint a smile in her voice.

"Naturally," Arachne agreed easily, smiling herself.

----------

Cinder returned to work at once, pausing in his dash from the front door to his workbench only briefly to apologize to his master for being late. The man merely grunted and continued with his own work. Cinder rummaged for a moment around his bench, and quickly located his copy of the prince's glassware order. He couldn't help but smile a bit at the memory of the last order the prince had placed through the glass-shop...

-----------------

The day after the archery tournament had begun fairly inauspiciously Susan and Marie had taken to their rooms, each with a small fever that nevertheless had them feeling out-of-sorts enough to remain in bed well past the time they would normally be up and about, cheerfully helping the kitchen staff fix breakfast, or perhaps going out into the garden for a bit of weeding before the morning meal.

While he was worried about his sisters, he knew them to be in capable hands between his step-mother and her personal maid, and so had left the house at his regular time to make his way into town to work.

Things picked up once Cinder arrived at the glass shop. Even before he was quite finished with his morning chores, a fabulously appointed coach stopped in front of the shop. Cinder watched through the window in bemusement as he saw Prince William descend from within, accompanied by a footman and two servants. His friend entered the glass shop in his usual imperious manner, walked straight up to the counter behind which Cinder stood, and carefully placed a long, narrow package on the rough wooden surface.

"How can I help you, my lord?" Cinder asked, bowing.

"I require arrows, my good man," William informed him with a small quirk of his eyebrow.

"Arrows?" Cinder raised his eyebrows, surprised. William blinked once, slowly, and smirked ever so slightly. Cinder was hard-pressed not to grin at the sight of _that_ familiar expression.

"Indeed." William flipped the soft fabric covering the narrow parcel back, and Cinder beheld one of his very own glass arrows.

"Were you, by any chance, at the archery tournament yesterday?" William asked in a bored tone, curling the fingers of his left hand and examining his perfectly manicured fingernails in a disinterested sort of way.

"I uh...saw a bit of it, yes, your grace," Cinder responded, wondering what his friend was leading up to. He wished William's servants weren't watching him so attentively--it was rather unnerving.

"Hmm. Then were you aware that the young woman who won ran away before she could claim her prize?"

Cinder held back a snort of amusement. If it weren't for the presence of those damnable servants, he would be openly snickering at this point.

"I had heard something to that effect, yes," he said instead, picking up the arrow and pretending to examine it.

"Most remarkable archer, really," William said in an off-hand manner. Cinder felt a warm glow in his gut at the compliment. "No one realized until after she had run off that she'd been using arrows made of glass. Not the easiest things to fire properly, from what I understand,"

Cinder had to fight down a smile at this second indirect compliment. "Indeed, sir, it is quite difficult to successfully keep glass arrows from shattering upon impact."

"Yes. Well. I need, oh, about two hundred of these made, to be finished in the next three days," William said, flicking his hand in the direction of the arrow Cinder still held. "A search is being held to find the lucky lass and force her to claim her prize. Since none of the officials got a really good look at her, we are forced to search her out by locating all likely-looking damsels and having them fire glass arrows at a target. I expect it will end in failure." He added dryly, raising his left eyebrow ever so slightly as he regarded Cinder coolly.

"I shall begin right away, your grace," Cinder said, bowing deeply to hide his amused smirk from William's servants.

"Excellent! Here is the first half of your payment." William withdrew a fat pouch from beneath his cloak and held it out to Cinder. Cinder reached out to accept it, his fingers brushing William's briefly as the exchange was made. He felt a small thrill of..._something_...in his stomach at the small contact, and glanced up into William's eyes. In contrast with the rest of his friend's handsome, cold features, his ice-blue eyes were practically smoldering with some unknown emotion. Cinder gulped and bowed again. He rose just in time to catch sight of William's smirk as he turned regally and strode from the small shop.

The search to find William's destined bride had, as the prince had predicted, ended in failure. Any female archer worth her salt in and around Tempus had been at the competition, and so all those were automatically disqualified from the search. The remaining tall, plain, dark-haired females to be found had not stood a chance, and so William had once more escaped from the jaws of wedded matrimony.

Cinder heard this all by way of town gossip, as he had very suddenly found himself to be the sole servant of his very suddenly, dramatically changed step-sisters. He would have given anything to have heard the whole farcical tale from William's mouth, to hear the dry, amused-bordering-on-disgusted tone his friend would use when relating the story...

---------------

That encounter with William had been so, so different from the one just this morning. Then, William had been all smirks and quirking eyebrows and subtle communications. This morning, William had been...a stranger.

No, even if he _was_ dealing with intense stress from the tragic occurrence at Tempus Castle, Cinder knew that there was no way his friend would purposefully treat him in such a manner. There must be some explanation, some _reason_, for it all...

As he thought, he worked. For the longest time, no ideas came to him, though he finished plate after plate and glass after glass in the mean-time.

Then it occurred to him: Susan and Marie had been flapping about the shop this morning, for reasons unknown to Cinder. He had witnessed first-hand the sort of effect that the two had on even the most straight-edge, faithful men. There was some sort of foul magic surrounding the pair, something that affected any man within spitting distance...Except for Cinder, who was for some reason unaffected. Possibly because they looked on him as a brother, and not a potential marriage partner, as they did with practically any other handsome man in sight...

Cinder nearly gasped as realization hit him--Not the wisest action to perform when one is blowing on a tube connected to swirling, iridescent molten glass, it has to be said. Fortunately, he restrained himself, and continued working, even as his thoughts churned wildly: What had the two girls been babbling about only yesterday when the invitation to the masque had arrived...? Only how one of them would snag and marry William! They had somehow gotten their claws into his best friend, worked their terrible magic on him, and as a consequence...

...No, it couldn't be true. Could it? There was no other explanation, though, nothing that made even half as much sense occurred to him. William, his best friend, the person he cared about more than anyone else in the world, had somehow fallen under the devious spell of Marie and Susan.

He was not going to stand for it! By the powers vested in him he was going to get his best friend back even if it cost him his life. He would fight tooth and nail against the forces of evil for him! Brave the deepest, darkest of underground caves, fighting against goblins and trolls with only a blunt, rusted sword and a jar of jelly beans. No one could stand against him as long as he--

"Cinder! Stop dilly-dallying and get back to work!" shouted Cinder's master, surprising the young man out of his (rather heroically narrative) reverie.

--finished his work before he set off on his quest to snap William out of his sisters' spell...

Too bad he had no idea where to begin.

-------------

There were a few things in life that the Big Bad Wolf prided himself on. One was his high tolerance for alcohol of all kinds. In his thirty odd years of life, he had only lost a drinking contest once, but he swore up, down, and sideways that it was only because he'd already had quite a bit to drink before they'd begun, and so he'd been at a disadvantage. Another was his remarkable skill at gambling. Most people claimed that his incredible success came from loads of luck, but Wolf privately thought that was a bunch of bull. Winning a hand of poker was all about skill--cheating was a skill, after all, and Wolf had refined the ability into an art form. He was also quite good at tracking and roughing it. He could navigate even unfamiliar forests with little to no trouble--no doubt the legacy of his great-grandfather, who, unlike the present-day Wolf, had been a _real_ wolf. But that is a fairy tale for another day.

Currently, however, Wolf was most grateful for his carefully acquired sneaking skills. If he wasn't so good at being stealthy and quiet, he was quite sure that he would probably have been caught by one of the unsavory creatures that called the Castle of Half-Evil home the moment he had snuck inside. He also figured that the fact that the master of the fortress was otherwise occupied factored into his continued success at remaining undetected.

He had been quietly following Red ever since the younger man had left Tempus Kingdom. He'd suspected something was amiss when he'd heard Red muttering to himself on the road--something about sickos and perverts, and oh, he wanted to _kill_ his godmother for making him do all these stupid chores. Clearly he'd not been able to finish his 'chores' in Tempus. Wolf knew from extensive experience (which involved a lot of quiet stalking on his part) that Red was usually very cheerful after successfully checking the last chore off his list, and was prone to skipping and humming merrily in celebration. The resentful hunch of his shoulders and aggravated stomping of his feet as he'd walked along the road did not speak of successful completion and a job well done. At least, not to Wolf.

And so he had followed the youth, all the way to the Wicked Fairy's castle. He'd had a spot of trouble with the Bridge Fae, but had avoided any mischief the small red-haired creature might have bestowed upon him by punching him unconscious and tying his small, limp form to a nearby outcropping using his long red hair as a rope. Wolf smirked and suppressed a snigger as he imagined what the Fae would do upon regaining consciousness only to find that his head was tied very securely to a rock by his hair.

Bringing his mind back to the here and now, he watched from the shadows as a large spider trundled past the dark alcove in which he had hidden himself. It was muttering to itself in a sort of raspy sing-song. Wolf thought he caught the words 'delicious little virgin' and 'good with a bit of salt', and frowned. If the delicious little virgin was Red (who else could it be?), then he certainly couldn't allow the young man to be eaten. Not with salt, at least. No, it was fluffy whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles or nothing, as far as Wolf was concerned. Salt just wouldn't do.

Slipping back into the corridor once the spider was safely out of sight, Wolf made his way deeper into the castle. He wasn't quite sure he knew where he was going, but figured that his instincts would guide him.

Eeeeeyargh!"

Or the dulcet tones of a young baker's voice. Wolf felt a shiver creep down his spine. Red. The terror and disgust in the shriek spurred him on--and now he knew he was going in the right direction. He just hoped he could arrive to do something before...whatever was happening to Red happened.

He carefully crept along until he found himself near the entrance to the Fae's throne room. Once there, he was appalled at what he bore witness to. The Wicked Fairy was all over _his_ Red. The damn Fae was touching him in places he had so far only _fantasized_ about touching. He was caressing him in ways he' only ever _day-dreamed _about!

Wolf's ire was slowly growing with each flickering touch, his knuckles becoming white as he clenched his hands. He repressed a snarl as he watched through a crack in the doorway. He wanted to get his hands on the blasted Fae and rip him bloody piece from bloody piece. But he had to be patient—the Fae's magic was strong, and Wolf knew that a head-on attack would have no effect whatsoever. All he could do was watch and hope that the Farie would turn his back to the door long enough for Wolf to sneak up behind him...

His breath caught in his throat and his body chilled with horror as he saw Wicked do something to the cloaked man--enchanted him, no doubt.. He saw Red's body slump in the Fae's arms and then put onto a magically conjured mattress filled with soft cushions.

He clenched his teeth.

"Red..."

He could no longer see what the Wicked Fairy was doing to Red, his view blocked by the lean, muscular length of the Fae. The Fairy's back was to Wolf, however, and the man saw his chance. As Wicked murmured quietly to the unconscious youth, Wolf slipped even more quietly into the room and crept, very carefully, up behind the Fairy. He noted very briefly that the Fae was probably about seven or so inches taller than his own six-foot-one--not that it mattered overly much at the moment, as the vile creatures was bent predatorily over the prone form of Red.

"Oh, yes. We're going to have so much _fun_." Wicked cooed, tracing one velvet-clad finger over Red's freckled face.

_Like hell you are!_ Wolf thought as he joined his hands together over his head and brought them down heavily at the base of the Wicked Fairy's pale neck.

"Oof!"

And with that, Wicked was out like a light. Wolf didn't give him the chance to slump gracefully over Red, however. He grabbed a handful of purple hair and yanked violently, pulling the Fae's surprisingly light body away from Red. Vindictively, he dragged Wicked away from the magically conjured bed and over to the throne, and set about tying him to the spiky, angular silver structure by his long flowing hair. He didn't take as long as he would have wished, but was reasonably satisfied that the sleaze-ball's hair would be a right mess when he finally managed to get it un-knotted.

Returning to the bed, he quickly wrapped the slumbering Red in his cloak and gathered him into his arms, reveling in the feel of the other man's slim body against his. Hugging Red protectively against himself, Wolf strode from the throne room of the Wicked Fairy and back out into the castle, intent on a quiet, unnoticed escape.

He crept as quietly and carefully as possible with the added weight of the unconscious Red in his arms. His amber eyes darted about corners, checking for any of Wicked various henchmen (most likely creepy crawlies, if the giant spider was anything to tell from). When he saw that his path was clear, he'd move onward, making his way to the entrance. He couldn't wait to get out of the Castle of Half-Evil and to get his Red back to life--even if it meant that he'd be sporting a few new bruises and shrugging off various creative insults. And even though it most certainly meant that the young man would run away from him again.

But that was how life was. Wolf figured that he still had a while yet to win his Red over, however, and so wasn't too concerned. So, rescue mission first, lots of comfort sex afterwards. That thought made him go a little faster, and made him just a bit more careless.

He made it safely out of the castle, but just as he was about to cross the threshold into the caverns of the dark and dank mountain path to the road, he missed something that someone with even a bad sense of observation couldn't have missed. Clearly he'd gotten carried away in his daydreams of possible rewards from the still-slumbering youth in his arms. Wolf took a step back, a small growl emanating from the back of his throat as he beheld the giant spider which had appeared to block the way. He would have started barking, too, but that didn't seem too appropriate (nor quite sane, if he thought about it--he was a _wolf_, after all, not a _dog_).

The giant arachnid had caught sight of him, and was eying him with a decidedly unfriendly gleam in its various beady black eyes. Wolf only had a few moments to consider what to do before the behemoth charged, chittering angrily. He caught something about "Master Wicked's precious snack!" as he dodged the spider's first attack, clinging tightly to his burden with both arms. He almost overbalanced, but caught himself just in time to get away from his attacker's second assault--the bugger was fast!

The creature hissed and scrabbled after him, legs alternately churning madly as he jumped out of range and jerking and stabbing as it drew near enough to attempt a strike. Wolf tightened his hold on Red, determined not to drop or surrender him. Unfortunately, with his arms so occupied, there really wasn't a whole lot he could do to defend himself against the spider's lightning-fast attacks. It was all he could do to dodge out of the way.

As he danced around the spider, trying to think of some plan of attack or escape, he realized too late that the creature had herded him back towards the Wicked Fairy's castle and, it probably went without mentioning, the long, doomful drop into a lake of boiling lava.

----------

The Demonic Overpower of Irony (henceforth to be referred to as 'Apple' to save time on typing) blinked. She gave two blinks more, which were then followed by three extra flutters of her eyelids. She looked at her counterpart. "Wait, what? Since when did he have a lake of boiling lava?" The Angelic Overpower of Irony (henceforth to be referred to as 'Kiwi', same reason as the demon) regarded her quietly.

"Who, dearest?" she asked in reply.

"Wicked!" Apple said, with a not-so-tiny pout. "Since when did he have a lake of boiling lava?" the demon repeated herself.

"Since ever." Kiwi stated.

Apple glanced at her counterpart, who was sipping her tea, before looking back down at the events unfolding before them. She reached under the parlor table and pulled out a full bottle of cream soda. She shook her head as she uncapped it. "Really? I don't remember that."

"Then your mind must be going, dearest." Was all the angel had to say. The demon, who looked a little put out, turned her best puppy-dog eyes on her one and only companion.

"Angel, don't tell me you're still upset about that incident with the sisters…"

"I am deaf. I can hear nothing." Kiwi sang, sticking her fingers into her ears. She sang this a few more times as Apple tried to beg her forgiveness over and over to the point where she started groveling on the floor. This lasted for at least an astral hour (about a half of a quarter of a millionth divided by distance per opened erotic book of a split second times a kumquat, in regular time) before anything productive happened.

"Oh, alright." Kiwi sighed, glowering at the pathetic excuse for a demon (who was crying on the hem of her formerly pristine white dress). "I forgive you."

At this, Apple finally managed to stop bawling her eyes out and nearly tackled her darling angel out of her chair in a bear hug. "My angel loves me again!" she declared to the world at large. As she said this, somewhere in the midst of Wolf's struggles and Cinder's angst, a giant ball of love befell the castle of Half-Elven and there was much chaos…but with lots of love. Loving chaos or lovely chaos or chaotic love even. Take your pick.

"So…would Angel object if your loving, devoted, loyal little demon goes down to do her second duty of the day?" Apple asked, batting her eyes at Kiwi. The angel sighed, knowing that she should probably learn to say 'no'. Someday.

---------

Wolf was in trouble. In front of him there stood not one, but _two_ enormous spiders--a second monstrosity had appeared shortly after the first--multiple black eyes gleaming, over-sized fangs dripping with saliva or possibly something more sinister. Behind him was not much better--a long drop to what looked to be a rather painful death. He was out of room to dodge from side to side, caged in as he was between the two behemoth arachnids to the fore and the sheer cliff to the rear.

"What shhhall we do with thisss one?" hissed one of the spiders to the other.

"Looks stringy and tough, methinks," the second one responded in a slightly less hissing voice.

"We'll jussst have to marinate it well then before we eatsss it," the first one responded.

"Oh, I should think so!" the second one replied. "But first we must retrieve the master's snack, otherwise he might marinate _us!_"

"Indeed ssso!" the first spider agreed, lunging forward and grasping at Wolf with its two front-most legs. Wolf dodged back yet again, and his breath caught in his throat when his heel caught on the edge of the precipice. He managed to recover his balance, but it was a close call nonetheless.

"Careful, careful! We mustn't let the master's snack burn!"

_No need to tell _me_ that,_ thought Wolf, clutching even more tightly to Red. He wished he could put the younger man down so that he could get out his knife and have a go at his attackers, but he didn't dare. He figured that if he were distracted by just one of them, the other could collect Red and spirit him off back into the depths of the dark castle. While he'd successfully infiltrated the place once, he was almost positive that he wouldn't be able to do it a second time. _Well, there's only one thing for it,_ he thought, coming to a decision, just a split second before the spider on his left jabbed out once more with its leg.

Wolf pitched forward, tucking his chin to his collar, and somersaulted between the spiders somewhat more awkwardly than he had anticipated, given he was rolling around Red's small but not insignificant form. He righted himself as quickly as he could and half-turned before he was smacked painfully in the head by a hairy, flailing leg. He tottered and stumbled backwards, shaking his head to clear his vision, which had suddenly decided to not work properly. Instead of showing him a pair of dripping-fanged, gigantic spiders advancing upon him from a dark, gloomy background of bare volcanic rock, which is what he expected, it insisted on showing him a calm, peaceful forest.

He jerked his head around, eyes darting back and forth as he searched for some sign of the spiders. He listened as hard as he could, but the only sounds that reached his ears were quiet, peaceful forest noises coupled with his own panting breath. The most ominous sound that could be heard was the noise of a woodpecker some distance off, and the only living creature in sight was a large, innocently blinking grey squirrel.

_I must be dead,_ was Wolf's first thought. _Dead and in heaven,_ was his second, for he still held the unconscious form of Red within his arms. Slowly spinning in place, Wolf tried to figure out what had occurred in the split second between him being whacked in the head and standing in the middle of a quiet, spider-free wood.

After several minutes of fruitless pondering, Wolf decided that he probably ought to return his thoughts to more important matters: Namely, waking Red up so that they could get on with the comfort sex.

He went about it in a variety of ways. After he had propped the dark haired man against a tree, he began the process of waking Red up. He poked and prodded in the most sensitive of places, in hopes of getting a response. No, not _there_, you perverts! Under the arms, his neck--anywhere where Wolf knew that Red was _ticklish._ When that didn't work, he began screaming in his ears, making a loud racket. The forest animals even joined in with the noise-making, thinking that Wolf was having some sort of strange woodland party.

But that worked about as well as tickling had--that is to say, not at all. He briefly pondered attempting to wake Red up by poking him with a stick, but thought better of it--especially when he considered the _terrible_ innuendo that even he wouldn't touch with the proverbial ten-foot pole.

Red remained unresponsive, as if he were truly dead, though the telltale signs of his chest rising and falling proved otherwise. Wolf looked at the man's peaceful freckled face with despair. What had that blasted fairy done to his one and only? He reached out with a hand to stroke Red's cheek tenderly.

"Red…" Wolf whispered, in pure misery. Was this it? Was this how their story was going to end? What would happen to their 'ever after'? For even though Red had never shown any inclination to accept his attentions, Wolf still held out the hope that one day, Red would finally open his eyes and see what had been waiting patiently for him all along, despite the constant teasing-bordering-on-harassment.

One would think that a man as sexually aware as Wolf would have jumped at the chance to molest his little Red whenever it arose. And he did, repeatedly. As painful as they were sometimes, he liked the younger man's heated responses to his teasing, and the bright tomato-cherry-red blushes that would come to his cheeks. He'd borne it for almost ten years. Ten long, almost agonizing years of chasing and following and hoping. It was unrealistic, how he had continued to follow after the man in the red hood despite everything that transpired between them. Especially since, even after all this time, Red showed hardly any signs of opening up to him.

And now…

"…Red…" Wolf called softly, nudging him with his nose. No response. He gave a shuddering sigh. "I'm sorry, Red. Sorry I couldn't do anything…I guess it's finally time to say good-bye, my bonnie lad."

To bid his farewell, he did the one thing he had not allowed himself to do for many a long year…something he had only done once before, in all his years of pursuing Red.

He kissed him.


	9. Oh, Look More Filler

Red returned to consciousness slowly, as though he were rising from a deep, dark pool. He was first aware of a sort of all-encompassing feeling of safety and warmth, something that he did not remember feeling when he had gone to sleep. What he _had_ been feeling when he had dropped off, he couldn't quite recall at the moment, and so he put it out of his mind for the time being.

The second thing he became aware of as he slowly awoke was that he was sitting up with his back resting against the trunk of a tree. Somewhere above him a few birds were chirping happily. He could hear a woodpecker some distance away, and the gentle swish of the wind through the boughs of many trees.

The third thing he noticed was that someone was kissing him.

Red's eyes flew open and he caught sight of Wolf, just as he began to pull away. He barely took the time to register the expression of unhappiness on the other man's face before his hand flew off on its own accord and slapped Wolf squarely across the cheek.

"PERVERT!" he cried, scrambling to his feet and stumbling a safe distance away, keeping his eyes fixed on Wolf the entire time. He saw several emotions flash briefly on Wolf's face; astonishment, surprise, and just a little bit of hurt. He was sure he'd imagined the last, however, when a moment later the filthy leer Wolf always seemed to be wearing returned.

"Good morning, my bonnie lad," he said, massaging his cheek where Red had struck him.

"'Good morning' my ass!" Red responded, glaring mightily. "What were you doing to me in my sleep, you sick bastard?"

Wolf scowled, which surprised him a little. He usually seemed to take Red's rude and forceful accusations a lot less seriously. "A lot less than that nancy Fae was about to," he said hotly, returning Red's glare with one of his own.

Red had been warming up to go off on one of his epic rants, but all that he had been about to say was shoved out of his mind by memories of the events that had taken place in the castle of Half-Evil. His angry response was choked off as he remembered just what, exactly, had been going on right before he'd lost consciousness.

"I sneak into that tastelessly decorated citadel, dodge countless unsavory giant monsters, tie the Wicked Fairy's hair to his throne, haul your unconscious butt out of there, and figure out how to wake you the hell up, and do I even get a word of thanks? Maybe even a small, tiny bit of gratitude? Ha!" Wolf removed his hand from his cheek, which now sported the vague red outline of Red's own palm, and pointed at Red, who was, for the moment, at a loss for words.

"I honestly don't know why I bother anymore! I do my best to help you out, and you just walk all over me like I'm a common doormat!" Wolf continued. "I'm sick of it, frankly. From now on, get yourself out of your own messes. I'm done."

Red stared, mouth slightly agape, as Wolf shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, turned around, and stalked off into the trees. He stared after him for several minutes, his mind working over-time to process what Wolf had said. He had...rescued him? From the clutches of the Wicked Fairy? Not anyone could have done that...or _would_ have, he admitted. Most would have left him to his fate instead of risking their own skins at the hands of that particular Fae. What could possibly have prompted Wolf to...?

It occurred to him that he owed Wolf an apology, and a huge one at that. Red jumped into motion, running after Wolf as best he could. Though the trees were fairly widely spaced, there were a lot of roots and undergrowth in this particular forest, and that made it hard to get anywhere with any sort of speed.

"Wolf!" Red shouted, hoping to get the man to stop so that he could catch up. "Woooolf!"

He ran as best he could for several minutes, but stopped when he stumbled upon a path. Looking around wildly, he could see no sign of his silver-haired antagonist. The man had disappeared. But there was no way he could have gotten _that_ far in just a few minutes, surely?

"WOLF! I'm SORRY!" Red shouted, as loudly as he could. This was actually quite loud. Unknown to Red, Wolf did indeed hear this apology, though he was still miffed enough at the moment to remain out of sight.

Red stood in the middle of the path, gasping slightly for breath and listening to the dying echoes of his cry fade into silence. He was at a bit of a loss. He had just seriously insulted his rescuer. He was in an unknown forest. His basket was missing—no doubt it was still within the depths of the Wicked Fairy's castle. Well, too bad. He didn't have anything in that basket that he couldn't replace, though he didn't much relish the thought of creating more of the rock-hard muffins he used to fend off overly aggressive creatures and certain leather-clad men.

Red smacked himself in the face at that last thought. _Why are you still thinking about him?_ He asked himself, annoyed. If he had any sort of luck at all, perhaps he would never have cause to use one of those muffins on Wolf again. He should be _rejoicing_ in the fact that, maybe this time, he had finally gotten rid of his amber-eyed voyeur. Instead, he felt...upset, and a little depressed.

"Don't think about that," he muttered to himself, straightening his cloak. His chore list was gone, but it didn't matter, as he only had one thing left to cross off, and he remembered quite clearly what _that_ was. He sighed. "Back to Tempus I go."

It didn't him take too long to get back to town. He had no idea where he was, so he just followed the path he had stumbled upon, which turned out to be a bit of luck for him at last. Wolf seemed to have taken him to the great forest outside of Tempus. In fact, after only a few minutes of following the path he found himself at the outer limits of the town surrounding Tempus Castle. Red was glad for it, as a much longer trek would have most likely landed him in an introspective monologue about how much he missed Wolf already and how sorry he was for slapping him. Or perhaps it would have in an alternate universe where Red wasn't a shallow, underhanded and selfish little bitch and Wolf was really only a vicious, sex-crazed wolf bent on having his naughty way with him many times over and in various positions. We may never know.

But, that was neither here nor there. Wearily, the cloaked man gazed at the rows of buildings before him, breathing a heavyhearted sigh. One more task and he could finally take a well-earned rest. He was used to craziness in his life (Wicked fairies, gender confused princesses and heroic Wolfs not withstanding), but he felt that he needed a vacation. Maybe he would go to Toyland. He had heard somewhere that Toyland was particularly relaxing during the summer months.

"Alright, Red. Time to figure out what's up in Tempus…" he told himself. It was mid-afternoon, and he was soon walking around within the busy streets filled with people heading home or going shopping. For his more vague chores (such as the ones simply saying 'investigate this disturbance in so and so place' without any further elaboration), he found that it was best to go around and gather information. In other words, ask people about the latest gossip.

There was, of course, quite a lot of talk about the unfortunate goings-on up at the castle, which Red listened to with a small stab of guilt. Briar hadn't been a bad sort, really, for all she'd--_he'd_--been slightly too perky and cheerful for Red's liking. But when it came down to it, though, he wouldn't act any differently if he had to do it again; it was either Briar's skin or his own, after all, and while he realized that Briar hadn't really done anything to deserve such a fate, he also knew that Briar's lot was a lot more generous than his own would have been had he decided not to help the Wicked Fairy after all. The slumbering, gender-confused prince would awaken one day by True Love's Kiss, and things would no doubt be peachy-keen from there on out, even if Briar _was_ a man—these things had a way of working themselves out.

"Did you hear? They say young Charles was caught skulking around the Montblanc house last evening, trying to sneak in through the cellar!"

"Shameful! Who caught him out?"

"Young Cinder, who else? That poor boy has so much on his plate right now, what with his mother being sick and all, it's really too bad he has to fend amorous men off of his sisters as well."

"I would say it ought to be the other way round, myself."

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems to me that the fault lies with the young ladies, not with their suitors. Didn't you hear about Yvonna's husband? Thirty years older than even the oldest girl, and he was up there just last week, fresh as you please, trying to woo one or the other with expensive chocolates and flowers!"

"No!"

"You'd better believe it! Who would have expected such behavior in a man who everyone knows is still as besotted of Yvonna now as the day they were wed?"

"Now that you mention it, I did hear something awfully hard to believe about Gisette's beau the other day..."

"And I'd bet my best skillet it's to do with those Montblanc girls."

"That's one wager you wouldn't have any worry of losing. From what I understand, she caught him out reciting poetry at the girls' bedroom window, and he told her off when she confronted him over it!"

"It's not natural, the way those two have men flocking to them in droves."

"Oh, I agree."

Red cocked his head and considered what he'd just overheard as the two gossiping housewives moved on to a new topic. One of them had mentioned Cinder—that was the name of the young man whose house he had woken up in just that morning! The two girls they had been discussing must be Cinder's sisters—the two horrifyingly beautiful young women who'd wanted to dress him up for tea. He shuddered at the memory.

But...what had Cinder told him about the pair? That they hadn't always been such frightening harridans—they apparently had simply woken up like that one morning and, presumably, had been making Cinder's life as difficult as possible ever since.

"But how is that sort of thing possible?" Red asked aloud, muttering to himself.

"A good question," replied a melodic voice. "But not one that is easily answered, I'm afraid."

The cloaked man blinked as he found himself suddenly no longer snooping about in town. Looking around, he saw that he wasn't in Tempus anymore, though he recognized his surroundings: He was in a place untouched by time, beyond the land of the living…and the dead. The ground, such as it was, was a swirling fabrication of pale pink and white clouds. Pink, heart shaped soap bubbles floated through the air, popping into tinier hearts when they came in contact with him. A cherub armed with a quiver of arrows and a pink bow zoomed past his head, muttering something about annoying girls and crazy old men.

Popping hearts and flying babies with weapons? He could only be in one place. Turning around, he beheld a beautiful vision as if lifted from a scenic painting. In the middle of this dream-like vision was a giant oyster, surrounded by picturesque trees with drooping branches, draped with hanging plants, along with even more heart-shaped soap bubbles and smaller, floating bits of sparkling glitter. As he watched, the oyster slowly opened up, revealing its special contents. From within the oversized mollusk stepped a beautiful woman with long, flowing red hair that trailed behind her as she walked. She wore a simple white dress that was more of a shift than anything, though it was much more modest than some of the things the royal ladies were wearing these days. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the bemused baker, hugging him close.

"Oh, Red! It's been too long!" The woman said warmly, pulling away slightly so that she could peer lovingly at his face.

"Hi, Aunt Love." He greeted, smiling slightly.

"You've grown into such a handsome young man! How old are you now? Sixteen?"

"Um...I'm twenty-five, Aunt Love," Red corrected, still smiling.

"Are you really?" Love blinked and stepped away from Red, staring at him with wide, clear blue eyes. "Time _does_ fly, doesn't it?" she mused, ruffling his hair.

"Not to be rude, but..." Red began, and then trailed off, not quite sure what he wanted to say. He gestured to the sugar-pink surroundings. "Why did you bring me here...?"

"Oh, of course!" Love nodded. "Come and sit down with me, and I'll explain what's going on."

Red offered her his arm, as decorum dictated, and she placed her hand on it and led him past the giant oyster to a comfortable pavilion, complete with a dainty white parlor table and two matching chairs. Continuing with the gallantry he knew Love enjoyed so much, Red pulled one of the chairs out for the woman, and she gracefully seated herself. He then went round to the other side of the table and took his own seat. Just as he was settling in, a cherub flew up to the table bearing a large silver tray containing an exquisite china tea set.

Red waited uncharacteristically patiently as Aunt Love went through the motions of preparing the tea. He knew how she adored these little social rituals, and as she was one of his least annoying relatives, he was more than happy to indulge her passion for ceremony.

"So, the situation in Tempus..." Love began, taking a dainty sip of her tea once she had served them both. She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, and continued, "Where should I begin...? Hmm...well, are you familiar with the Three U's of Fairy Godmothering?" When Red shook his head, she launched into an explanation on the topic. "Well, the three are thus: Unloved, Unwanted, and Unfortunate. These are the three situations fairies look for when new children are born. Most babies are not destined for great trials in their youth, and so are overlooked in favor of those who are.

"The Unfortunate children are those cursed to a horrible fate—much like Princess Briar Rose was—and are the ones in the most need of protection and care. But, most of the time, these children's bad luck turns around once they take control of their lives.

"The Unwanted are those orphaned at a young age with no relatives to turn to for help. Wandering fairies have a tendency to guard these children while in disguise--as bear, or a wood sprite, or what have you. Sometimes they even talk a real bear or fox or whatever into taking care of the child, but that's usually only when they have other obligations. Looking after an Unwanted is very hard work, and usually lasts until the day the child dies.

"As for the Unloved, well…it's a bit of a special case, this last one. The Unloved are the children who will have no chance of meeting that one special person, no matter how hard they try, and so require divine—or, let's not mince words, _fairy_—intervention to help things along…"

Love sighed softly, looking down thoughtfully into her cup of tea. She stroked the fine china with her thumbs as she thought over what she wanted to say next. "A person's life is mapped out before they are born by us higher powers of the universe, though only the Ironic Overpower knows how everything will truly end. So, simply put, every person in need is assigned a fairy godmother at birth." She smiled and looked up at Red with a tender gaze. She reached out and gently tucked a lock of dark hair behind his ear.

"Tsk…you're looking more and more like your mother every day." She commented with a bit of nostalgia. "You have the shape of her chin and her lips…her beautiful brown eyes…and definitely her freckles." She chuckled and ruffled his hair affectionately. "But you inherited your dad's messy black hair! Oh, it was great watching those two get together!"

Love went quiet for a long moment, lost in her memories of Red's parents, and Red began to feel acutely uncomfortable. The memory of his dead parents had always been a sensitive spot with him—almost as much as his slightly unhappy childhood had been. So, he tried to get his aunt to get back to the topic on hand.

"What does all this have to do with the disturbance in Tempus?" he asked uncertainly, fidgeting with his cup of tea. His question snapped Love out of her reverie, and she was all cheery smiles and sunshine romance again.

"Right, well…most children are lucky enough to be quite fortunate, wanted, and very much loved with no foreseeable interference in the future that they couldn't handle themselves, and so have no need of a fairy godmother. That's the normal way of things. But something _has _happened to one of these children specifically, as well as many other innocent and previously happy couples, and it's made me quite upset." She told him. "Perfect romances ruined, couples splitting up, marriages being torn asunder…it's the Love Apocalypse with the way things are going in Tempus Kingdom…You know what I'm speaking of, right?"

Red, remembering the gossip he'd only recently heard, and thought he understood what she meant. "The Montblanc sisters," he said. Love nodded.

"Yes, the Montblanc sisters…destined for true love with the baker and the candle stick maker," she told him. She poured herself some more tea, frowning when she noticed it had gone a little dark during the length of her Three U's explanation. Giving a small, distressed sigh, she nevertheless drained her cup in an undignified manner—the way one would when in desperate need of a strong drink. "None of the divine powers knows what has happened to those two girls—someone's been meddling down below, as far as we can tell, and we have no idea who. Somehow, they went from being a pair of pleasant, quiet girls to...well, I think you saw. This transformation has been, as you overheard, drawing the attention of many an unwary man. They are causing most of the disturbance that I told your godmother about…"

Red blinked. Most of the disturbance? Then, what was the main problem? He inquired about this, and Love was more than happy to elaborate.

"There is a young man who is just a little bit younger than you who is, despite all good reason, like yourself." She said, grinning impishly. She giggled at Red's perplexed expression, laughing outright when he began to scowl at her. "Like you, dear Red, he doesn't have a fairy godmother, and he's destined to continually stumble into his True Love's arms all the time, though he has no clue it's happening. Nothing will stop him and his True Love being together, come hell or high water, but…" she scowled, "…these girls have begun interfering with his destiny! First, by casting him out of the family and turning him into a servant, slowly cursing his very existence by simply _breathing,_ and now, worst of all…pulling his beloved away from him." As she said this last, Love's face became a mask of tragedy which on anyone else would have come off as fake.

Red quickly forgot his brief flare of irritation with Love's insinuation about his own destiny as she continued with her explanation about the situation in Tempus. He was thrown for a loop as he tried to comprehend his aunt's last sentence, however. How could the girls pull the man's True Love away? The only way that could work if the man's True Love was a man himself, and if that were the truth...

Ouch. He'd just hurt his brain.

"He's gay?" he asked, rather bluntly, glaring at his tea. Love laughed at his response.

"Love is love, no matter what form it takes. You should know that better than anyone, Red. After all…you swing that way, too." She reached across the table and gently pinched his cheek, smiling as he blushed a bright red to match the color as his hood.

"So, Red," she began, "will you take up the fight in the name of Love?"

Red made a face. "Have you any idea how cheesy that sounds?"

"Live with it, dear. Your mother did it for twenty years before she married your father." Love stated dryly. The cloaked man sighed. He really, _really_ hated playing matchmaker...but he also didn't know how to refuse Aunt Love when she made a request of him. She was always so genuinely happy afterwards, it really did make the results worth the effort.

"I'll do my best." He said honestly. The beautiful redhead squealed and clapped her hands in delight. He smiled at her, feeling happier than he had in the past few days, almost despite himself. It was hard not to, in Love's presence. She just...had that effect on people.

He stood up to go, but he quickly realized two things. One, he had absolutely no idea how to get out of the strange place that Love lived within; and two, Love had grasped onto the edge of his cape. He looked at her questioningly, wondering what else she wanted.

"You didn't ask who you're fighting for," she commented, looking slightly put out.

"So who am I fighting for?"

"A man named Cinder."

Red blinked. He recalled the harried, slightly frumpy young man easily enough. If it hadn't been for the guy's rather unfortunate relations, Red thought that he probably wouldn't have minded chatting with him a bit more that morning—he'd seemed like an alright sort. 

"Sit back down, dear, I'm not quite done," Love said, leaning back in her own chair and gesturing for Red to return to his. He did so, and sighed slightly as Love sat up to pour him a fresh cup of tea. It looked like he was going to be here for a while longer yet.

"Now the thing is, Cinder and his love were supposed to come along on their budding romance slowly--that's the sort of scenario that best suited their personalities, after all...I spent _months_ planning it out, I did, and now it's all spoiled!"

Red nodded in his best sympathetic manner and lifted his cup to his lips, blowing gently on the hot liquid within.

"Now with the spell put on his destined love by those two..._girls_..." --Red got the impression that Love really wanted to use a stronger word, but was far too polite to give voice to it-- "...It's all going to come crashing down. I'm fairly sure a declaration of love and a good long kiss from Cinder will break the boy out of the girls' spell, and I suppose that's a satisfactory way to go about it, but it's just not _Cinder_..." Love bemoaned, pouring herself another cup of tea and draining it. Red took a few sips from his own cup, impressed at the woman's indifference to the boiling liquid.

"Ah, buggerit," Love muttered, glaring at her empty cup. She snapped her fingers, and like magic, a cherub appeared and fluttered in the air before them both. "Bring me the brandy—that bottle from last winter's Christmas party. Red, do you want anything?"

Red shook his head and tried not to smirk. The mental image of someone as...as _innocent_ as Love drinking herself under the table was highly amusing.

The two waited in silence while Love waited for her drink, which was promptly delivered on another silver tray containing a three-quarters full bottle of deep amber liquid and a delicate crystal snifter. Love poured herself a generous portion and downed it in three quick swallows.

"That's better," she commented, carefully setting her glass on the table. "Now, where was I?"

"Forcing a declaration of love, I think," Red told her, taking a sip of his tea.

"Right. Once Cinder's got his One and Only free of that spell, I can wiggle in after and make sure he stays that way." Love scowled again and reached once more for the brandy.

"Um. Who _is_ Cinder's 'One and Only', if you don't mind my asking?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention that, didn't I? Of course you'll need to know that!" Love poured out a bit more brandy for herself, and Red took another sip of tea. "Cinder is destined to fall in love with Prince William."

Red had enough presence of mind to turn his head before spraying his tea all over the fluffy pink clouds upon which the pavilion was set up.

"I'm sorry, _what?_" he demanded incredulously, wiping his mouth and staring at his aunt in disbelief. Love giggled and sipped her brandy.

"I'm pretty sure you heard me the first time," she said, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips.

"But—I just put his bro-sis-Briar and their parents to sleep because the Wicked Fairy made me! If William doesn't produce an heir and continue the royal line..."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Love fluttered her hand at him and laughed. "It will all work out for the best, you can rest assured. I just need you to help me get Cinder and William together, and everything else will take care of itself."

Red propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.

"So, my dear Red, now that we've got all that taken care of, tell me: How is your own love life going?"

Red shifted ever so slightly so that he could glare at Love from between his fingers. "You ask as if you didn't already know," he muttered.

Love giggled again, her clear blue eyes twinkling merrily.

"Oh, but I don't. _Truly_." She told him as he gave her an unconvinced stare. She pretended to look at a watch that wasn't on her wrist, and feigned a look of surprise. "Oh, my! Is that the time already? Goodness, I've kept you here for too long! It's time to get you back!" She stood up from her seat and, with surprising strength, pulled Red out of his just as he was drinking some more tea. "Say hi to your loverboy for me when you get back."

"Uh, but how _do_ I go back?" he inquired, stoically ignoring her last comment.

She smiled. "You're already there," she said.

Red blinked. He whirled around as he found himself back in the town marketplace. The crowds had dispersed and the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon some time ago, by the look of it. He really _had_ spent a long time in Love's dimension. It was already late evening now…

_Grururu..._.

Red blinked.

_Gruuuururururu…_

He blushed as he put his hand to his grumbling stomach. Dear lord, when was the last time he had eaten something? Looking back on the past two days, he realized that he hadn't eaten anything since he'd had tea with Hunter yesterday afternoon. He had been running on nothing but tea and biscuits for far too long--It was beyond time to get some real food.

But he only had some spare change in his pocket, and whatever real money he had was either at home or in his…basket. He cursed the Wicked Fairy thrice, stomping his foot in anger.

Great. What was he going to do? Beg? It would take a while for him to get home, and by then he'd probably end up doubled up with starvation cramps. There had to be an alternative. He was too proud to beg for food, and he didn't know of any places in Tempus that would let him work for his meal. Maybe he could stay at a friends'? But the only person he really knew in town was Arachne, and he didn't think he was quite _that_ desperate. Yet.

He made his way over to a quiet shop-front and leaned against the wall, allowing himself to slide down to sit on the ground. He sighed. "Ugh…why does this stuff keep happening to me?"

"Red Riding Hood?"

Red was startled by the voice that called him by his childhood nickname. He blinked as he looked up a pair of fabric-clad legs, which were connected to a lean torso clad in a white military uniform, and a beautifully content smile that could make angels weep at the sheer sight of it. Luckily for Red, he was no angel, so his eyes remained quite dry as he stared dumbly up at Lord Heart, who reached down to him with a gloved hand.

"It _is_ you!" He exclaimed. "What are you still doing here in Tempus, little one?" He grasped Red firmly by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

Red wasn't quite sure how he felt about being called 'little one' by some guy he didn't even know, but brushed it off for the moment. He opened his mouth to answer Lord Heart's question, but was very rudely interrupted by his stomach.

**GRRrururuu...**

Lord Heart's mis-matched eyes widened upon hearing this most horrific of noises, and he placed his hand over his heart. "Have you not eaten anything recently?" he asked, all sympathy and concern.

"Err...well, no." Red responded, blushing furiously at being so betrayed by his rebellious gut.

Lord Heart tutted in concern, shaking his head. "That simply won't do at all! You must allow me to feed you! Do come along!" He placed a hand gently but firmly at the small of Red's back, and nudged the baker forward. Red was more than a little suspicious of this—this was the sort of thing guys did when they wanted to get into his pants, but were trying to be subtle about it.

**GUUURURUrurururuuu...**

On the other hand, though, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to let this mysterious Lord Heart treat him to a meal. He could always eat his fill and then run away—he'd done it before, and it always worked like a charm...

And speaking of charm, he supposed that since he was now walking side by side with the noble, that he should spark up some sort of conversation. It would also help him figure out who he was. After all, hadn't Lord Heart said that he was an admirer of his back at Tempus Castle just yesterday evening?

"Um...Lord Heart?"

"Please, call me Alexander." he said with an amicable smile. "Or 'Fourteen' if you like." Red raised an eyebrow at the odd nickname presented to him, but continued on nonetheless.

"Right...er...Fourteen..." The name sounded slightly odd on his tongue. "If you don't mind my asking, I have a bit of a personal matter to inquire into." Red said, looking up at the taller man.

Fourteen just nodded, silently urging him to go on.

"You said...that you're an admirer...how do you know me, then? I have a pretty good memory and I'd think I'd remember someone as...unique as you." Red explained, frowning a little. He really did have a good memory, as proven by his ability to remember the minute details of the chores he had to do...and his ability to hold grudges for a whole ten years. Thinking about that made him think of Wolf, though, and he suddenly felt a little sick.

"Are you alright?" Fourteen inquired worriedly, noticing the change in Red's expression.

"Just a small...stomach pain," Red said, not really lying. His stomach gave a small growl and he had to fight from blushing in embarrassment. "But you didn't answer the question." The platinum blond nodded in admittance, smiling all the while.

"Yes, well..." He sighed lightly. "Let's just say...that, once upon a time, you helped me quite a bit."

Red blinked. "Are you sure it was me? I'm sorry, but I really don't remember..."

"Oh, without a doubt. Like I said, though, it was quite a few years back, so it's probably no surprise that you don't." Fourteen told him.

They walked and chatted together for a few minute more, before Fourteen ushered him into what was possibly the ritziest restaurant Red had ever seen, let alone entered. The maitre d' recognized Fourteen instantly.

"The usual table, my lord?" he asked, bowing low.

"Please," Fourteen responded with a genial nod and smile. The maitre d' glanced suspiciously at Red, noting his mud-stained boots and wrinkled shirt (which had, he thought defensively, been freshly ironed yesterday morning). He didn't say anything, though, and Red suspected this was only because of the man whom he accompanied.

They were shown to a quiet, relatively secluded table that was situated on a platform at the back of the restaurant right next to an enormous window that overlooked a great deal of Tempus.

Fourteen held Red's chair for him as he sat down, then seated himself. The hovering maitre d' handed them each a menu, asked Fourteen if he'd like a drink, and withdrew quietly when he was given a negative.

Once the rather uptight man was gone, the noble turned to look at Red with a pleased expression on his handsome face, not really paying much attention to his menu. Red, on the other hand, was going through the list of different dishes, wondering which ones would be the most filling and inexpensive. Even though he suspected that Lord Heart--Fourteen--was the kind, giving type, he didn't want to seem like an insensitive pig.

But still...

_Mmm...what to fill my precious with? Would you like fillet mignon, my preciousss?_ he thought to himself, making sure that his expression stayed neutral and that drool wasn't coming down his lip. _Oooohh...the lobster dish looks good...or maybe a nice juicy steak..._

"Enjoying yourself?" Fourteen asked.

"Err...yes?" Red ventured, tearing his gaze away from the menu for a moment to look at his benefactor. Fourteen smiled gently. Red blushed slightly and returned his gaze to his menu. The blond man sitting across from him was _very_ attractive, he had to admit. As he scanned the menu, he suddenly remembered something that Aunt Love had said to him – something about him being destined to continually bump into his True Love without realizing it. He restrained a small gasp as he thought—could this be..._him_? He glanced up at his table companion. Fourteen had finally opened his own menu and was perusing the contents, a small, complacent little smile still on his lips. Red blushed again and looked back down at his menu. No way. This couldn't be him.

...Could it?

His stomach chose this exact moment to let out another incredibly rude noise, so he hurriedly returned his attention to the task of choosing something to eat.

In the end, Red chose the house steak (medium rare with a light sprinkling of peppers and onions, thank you very much) with a side of baked potatoes and Greek salad. He did his best to eat his meal like a sane person for his dining companion's sake, consciously forcing himself to eat slowly and properly, though he felt that he could devour the entire meal in a heartbeat. He was grateful that Fourteen didn't try to make conversation while he ate, giving him the opportunity to focus solely on his food.

For dessert Fourteen ordered them slices of an exquisite opera cake.

Being a baker, Red was used to sweets of all kinds, and knew a divine cake when he tasted it. His mind went into pastry overdrive as he tried to decipher the recipe with every single morsel he slowly chewed. The texture of the cake was spongy and soft, and the chocolate used was so smooth and creamy it melted in his mouth. There was a slight taste of some type of alcohol, but he couldn't tell what it was that just made the flavor all the richer. Red sighed. It was cake heaven.

Fourteen watched his companion eat his cake with a bemused look on his face, eating his own slice rather leisurely. Through dinner he had remained silent, dutifully eating his food and keeping a good eye on his guest. He chuckled as he reached across the table and picked up Red's napkin, bringing it up to gently wipe a piece of pastry off of his freckled face. "You've something on your cheek," he explained.

Red blinked, freezing up just a bit as he felt the cloth rub softly against his skin, weird scenarios running through his head. Most of the time, when he would go out with someone to eat, if he ever had a piece of food on his face his…er…'dining companion' ('date' wouldn't be appropriate for the current situation at hand—plus, Aunt Love's words were still buzzing around in his head and he didn't want to think of Fourteen as his True Love, though he hadn't ruled him out just yet) would swoop in and lick it off. Even Hunter had done it once or twice during the times he'd felt brave enough to do something bold with his 'sweet and innocent girlfriend', back in the day.

So it felt decidedly odd, yet nice, that Fourteen would clean him up and do only that. Somehow, it disappointed Red a little, and he ended up thinking about what Wolf would have done in that same instant. He frowned darkly as his mind gave him an image of a rabid Wolf pouncing on him and licking him till the cows and their grandmothers came home. Seeing his expression, but not knowing the reason behind it, Fourteen inquired into it.

"Oh, just thinking about something unpleasant." Red remarked dismissively. "Nothing to worry about." Fourteen gave a smile of relief.

"Oh, good." He stated contentedly. "I was afraid that I did something wrong."

Well, he had, in a way. But Red supposed that it was a good thing that Fourteen wasn't a raging nymphomaniac who would pounce on him. Like Wolf…

"Who's Wolf?"

Red blinked in surprise.

"Huh?"

"Who's Wolf?" Fourteen repeated himself. "You mentioned him just now…Just after you said it was a good thing I'm…ahem…not a 'raging nymphomaniac'."

Red blushed his namesake. Had he said all that out loud? He glared at his innocent wineglass, blaming it and its contents for his loose tongue (although he hadn't even gotten halfway through). The noble across the table chuckled at his sudden plight, which brought Red's brown gaze up to glare at him.

"My, my…how saddened I am, though." He said, sounding more playful than hurt. "To think that you think that I have no passion in my heart for you...But you are right indeed to say that I am not a 'raging nymphomaniac' as you so eloquently put it. But that isn't the worst of it!" He placed his hands over his heart and looked at Red with such a beautifully pained smile that it actually made him feel bad.

"While we dined, the focus of my admiration was thinking of someone else! Perhaps someone who has already stolen his heart from me?" Fourteen looked to Red, waiting for confirmation before going on. Red began to protest, but he went on with his little drama nonetheless, despite vehement denials from the man in the hood.

"No! Wolf is—"

"Ah! My heart! It bleeds for you, dear Red!"

With that, Fourteen fell off of his chair, onto the floor where he lay prostrate, as if he had suddenly experienced a stroke. Red was in utter shock and didn't move from his seat for a good ten seconds as his brain caught up with what just happened before his very eyes. He got off his chair and knelt by the noble's side, worried and concerned over him—all thoughts of anything else but the young lord gone from his mind. Everyone else in the restaurant kept on as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, but the truth of the matter was…they were just used to this sort of drama, which went on nearly every day from various people.

…

…That, and the Maitre d' had been notified in advance.

Red bent over the blond man, wondering if he was dead or just unconscious—or even playing some sort of sick joke on him. He reached out and gently tried to rouse him by shaking a shoulder and calling his name over and over. He nearly jumped a mile when, after several minutes with no reaction, the man responded to him out of the blue when he had been about ready to give up and call for help.

"Come closer…" Fourteen whispered.

Red leaned in a bit.

"Closer…" the man beckoned, rather weakly.

Red leaned in much more.

"Oh, closer…"

Red leaned in so close that his nose was only a few centimeters away from the other man's face. "Yes?"

Fourteen brought a hand up and placed it gently on Red's chin. He tilted the surprised baker's head and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, which caused Red to blush.

"Have I driven thoughts of other men from your mind yet, little one?" he asked softly, his gray and green eyes boring intensely into Red's brown ones. Red shivered slightly, suddenly ill at ease.

"Well, er..."

"Splendid!" Fourteen exclaimed, bouncing to his feet. He bent down again to take Red's hand, and helped the suddenly flustered baker to stand. "Now, would you like to sit back down for a bit of small talk, or would you like to, perhaps, go for a walk? Or is there somewhere I can escort you?"

"Um...actually..." Red began, but interrupted himself by yawning. Which was, he thought, utterly ridiculous, because he hadn't really done anything at all that day which would make him tired—He'd even been in an enchanted sleep for, as best he could guess, several hours—He should, by rights, be feeling refreshed! It must be all the food he'd consumed, combined with the very small bit of wine, which was making him so sleepy.

"I guess...if you want, you can walk me to my friend's place..." Red offered. As much as he hated to do it, he would crash at Arachne's for the night. It was far too late in the evening for him to even consider walking back to his own cottage near Baker Town, and besides, he really ought to tell Arachne all that he had been up to lately. He owed her that much at least for borrowing that maid's dress.

"Of course, of course!" Fourteen seemed delighted at this prospect. "And where does your friend live?"

"She uh...has a corner shop in the Merchant District," Red told him.

"The Merchant District...? That's a little far from here, is it not? Perhaps I should call a carriage?"

Red was slightly alarmed at this suggestion. Alone in a carriage with this handsome man who was obviously attracted to him _and_ who seemed to know he was a man, and didn't mind? He'd already been nearly molested by the Wicked Fairy and Wolf that day...he didn't feel the need to add a third name to that particular list. "Actually, I'd prefer to walk, if you don't mind," Red said. When Fourteen still looked hesitant, he decided to turn up the charm a bit. "Because it's such a nice night out, and it's not a hard walk, it's practically all downhill from here..." As he spoke, he tilted his head down slightly and looked up at Fourteen from beneath his eyelashes, an almost childlike action which nevertheless also came across as slightly flirtatious.

Fourteen was clearly as much a sucker for Red's patented 'pretty pretty please?' look (as he thought of it) as anyone else he'd ever used it on. "Well...alright, then," he said. Red bounced happily and clapped his hands.

"Yay!"

_Wolf would be laughing _so_ hard if he could see you right now..._ the errant thought crossed his mind even as Fourteen ushered him to the front of the restaurant in order to pay for their meal. As they were leaving, Red could hear the Maitre d' furiously scolding the young woman who'd waited on them that evening for neglecting her duties and not bringing Lord Heart his check sooner. He winced slightly, and hoped she wouldn't be fired for her slip-up.

The evening air in Tempus was quite warm, as per usual at the end of June. Fourteen and Red chatted quite comfortably throughout the nearly forty minutes it took to walk to Arachne's. By the time the noble saw Red to the door of the seamstress' shop, Red had warmed up quite a bit to him. How could he not, really? Fourteen was a complete gentleman, soft-spoken, patient, and gentle. The fact that Red thought him to be incredibly handsome was merely a bonus.

"Here is where I bid thee adieu, dear Red," Fourteen said, sweeping an elegant bow. Red blushed, and curtsied before he could stop himself—it had become such a habit with everyone else who thought he was a girl. He mentally slapped himself for it, but Fourteen merely smiled at him. He returned the smile, and then turned and slipped inside the shop.

The bell above the door jingled merrily, and Red looked around. The shop was dimly lit by only a handful of candles, burning in sconces on the walls. He was just about to call for Arachne when a voice spoke up from the shadows, causing him to jump.

"Oh, hello, Red dear."

Red gulped. "Good evening, Arachnia," he responded, his eyes darting around in search of the speaker. Arachne's mother stirred in the shadows, the heavy rustling of silk and brocade loud in the otherwise silent shop. Red found her outline in the dark at last, and his eyes remained riveted on her shadow as she continued,

"Arachne has stepped out for the evening, I'm afraid."

"That's alright...I was really just wondering if...er, if it would be alright if I slept on the couch tonight, ma'am."

"Silly Red, you know you're always welcome here," the woman's voice was dry but warm, and Red got the distinct impression of a motherly smile as she spoke. He relaxed a bit. It was always hard for him to reconcile Arachnia's rather off-putting looks with her actual personality. Arachnia, sensitive to these things as she was, realized this, and purposefully remained just out of Red's sight in order to spare his nerves.

"Thank you," he said.

"The couch is in the back through the kitchen, just as it always is. There're extra blankets in the linen closet if you get cold. Please make yourself at home, dear," Arachnia said warmly. Red nodded and smiled gratefully, knowing that even in the dim light she would see it, and made his way through the shop and kitchen and into the small sitting room that doubled as Arachnia's guest room. Seating himself on the comfortably overstuffed couch, he removed his boots and flopped down on his side, drawing his cloak closely about him.

Within moments, he was sleeping peacefully.


	10. Detective Reaper

There were very few things that could stir Red from slumber. Those things were imminent doom, imminent molestation (unless he was horribly drugged or under the influence of a cursed artifact), or the smell of delicious breakfast food. This morning, Red found that it was a mixture of choice A and choice C, considering that the wafting smell of bacon and eggs with a side of buttered croissants came from a plate in Arachne's hand…and the woman looked too gentle and innocent standing above him like that to be trustworthy.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," she sang sweetly, reaching down with a well manicured hand to pinch his cheek as he groggily tried to comprehend his current situation. "Did you have a good sleep? Hmmm? Couch nice and soft?" She picked up a piece of bacon and dangled it close to his face, dripping a bit of grease onto his skin.

"Have a good stroll in the moonlight? Maybe in a _dress_?" she asked acidly. Pouting mightily, she popped the cooked meat into her mouth, crunching on it in a very unladylike manner. She swallowed noisily before she began questioning Red further. "Now…why would my _favorite_ baker be prancing around in the dark…in a maid's dress, no less…on the same night that the Princess Briar Rose fell under the prophesied curse, hmm?"

Red gave her a slightly blank look.

"Well, er…"

"I'm waiting, Red," she said, picking up another piece of bacon and eating it in front of him, smiling a satisfied smile when she heard Red's stomach grumble a little. "Or shall I have to eat this plate and the rest of breakfast all on my lonesome, and ruin my figure in the bargain?"

Red laughed nervously as he watched her eat, putting a hand to his stomach. Despite the absolutely enormous meal he had consumed last night, he was quite hungry. He sat up, giving the woman an embarrassed smile, wondering what he should tell her, exactly. "Er, um...well…Funny you should say that…" he trailed off, trying to stall."So, er…it's like this…" He paused. "It began on a beautiful morning…"

For once, he was at a loss for words. He grinned sheepishly at Arachne, who glowered down at him imperiously. She picked up a croissant and viciously took a bite out of it, chewing in a manner reminiscent of a lioness gnawing on a chunk of antelope. Red gulped and the truth spilled forth from his lips. The whole truth…well, except for all the embarrassing parts involving perverted males trying to get it on with him (though he did try to squeeze in something about Fourteen near the end, but Arachne impatiently stopped him there). Arachne allowed him to sit at the breakfast table and begin eating, on the condition that it didn't interrupt his tale. He did remember to tell the seamstress that the princess was actually a prince, but that she should keep her mouth shut about it.

"Huh…I always thought it was odd that they'd send us the measurements instead of just letting us up to measure the poor bloke." Arachne said conversationally as Red devoured the last bits of his prepared breakfast. She giggled. "I always thought there was something off about her—er…_Him_. I don't think I've ever met a woman who threw herself—himself—whatever—at anything male as much as Briar Rose. Not even the town harlots try to lure men as much as that one did." She shook her head.

"Poor sod. I wonder what'll happen in a hundred years when the kid's wedding day comes…bet the groom'll be 'pleasantly' surprised."

"I dunno…maybe he'll get a hard-on?" Red commented in between mouthfuls. Arachne smacked him in the head.

"Red!"

"What? No straight man I've ever met would go for someone that flat-chested unless they secretly liked guys." The baker defended, swatting the woman's hands away as she tried to whack him again. His own words led him to remember how dumbstruck Hunter had looked at the sight of the gender-confused prince, and he wondered if he should amend his words. The thought of Hunter in the woods soon got him thinking about another, earlier incident involving the woodsman…as well as a certain man clad in black leather…

_I wonder what it would've been like…If I had reacted differently then,_ he thought sadly to himself. _If I hadn't freaked out so bad…it was kind of nice…to know that someone had an interest in knowing me for me…sorta._ He poked his eggs with his fork, swirling it around on his plate, his appetite suddenly gone. His lips tingled with the ghost of the memory of Wolf's lips on his own.

_Fourteen likes you for you_, the rational and less emotional part of Red's brain spoke out. _He's a proper gentleman who is courteous and an upright person. So what do you need that mangy Wolf for anyways? He was only trouble…_

But he'd risked his life to save Red's…and had gone out of his way to look out for him time and again, year after year, now that he thought of it…

_Does the good really outweigh the bad?_

"I wanna see Wolf." Red blurted out loud.

Arachne blinked at him. "You mean the guy who molested you when you were just fifteen?" she asked, sounding incredulous. She hadn't been there for the ordeal, but considering that it had been in the Sleeping Forest, and gossip traveled fast amongst old ladies and passers-by (not to mention that Death had been round to visit Arachnia that very evening and had bemoaned the whole ordeal to her all night long after the fact), she knew quite a bit about the 'exploding pie incident'. "Mister I-Dressed-Up-In-Granny's-Clothes-Just-To-Pounce-On-A-Fifteen-Year-Old-Boy, Wolf? Or is there a new one stalking you?"

Red blushed the color of his cloak, privately wondering when he'd started saying his thoughts aloud for the whole world to hear. Although, her questions did make him wonder a bit—and not just about Wolf, but also of his new 'wolf'. A nobleman, by the name of Alexander 'Fourteen' Heart, who obviously knew him well--even if he didn't know who the slightly eccentric man was himself.

"Same Wolf…different story…" was all he squeaked out through his teeth.

And that was the end of that topic.

"So, what are you going to do now, Red?" Arachne inquired politely, picking up a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice from the table and pouring them both a glass. The younger man took the glass and downed it in four large swallows.

"Aunt Love and Godmother are sicing me on two girls are who are ruining the lives of those around them—not to mention their own brother," he replied, holding out his glass for some more juice, which Arachne obligingly poured. She gave him a rather suspicious look, as if she had an inkling of what he really meant.

"Really? They wouldn't happen to be the Montblanc girls, would they?" she asked.

Red nodded, unsurprised. After all, if anyone would be the first to pick up on the latest gossip in Tempus, Arachne would be the one. "Yes, they are. Do you know them?" he asked, looking at her.

"Heh…you could say that," she said, taking a drink from her own glass of juice. "In fact…I used to play with their brother before their mother married his father. I've probably known him longer than I've known you, Red." At this, the woman paused to reminisce of all the times she spent with Cinder as a child, since she really hadn't had many other friends to be with. She grinned all of a sudden and brought a hand to painfully pinch one of Red's already abused cheeks.

"That's why I'm always _so_ happy to see you. You rarely ever stop by unless it's for business or a chore. Like right now…" she noted with a grin. She then sighed dramatically, and continued, "Honestly Red. You could at least remember to write now and again…what friends you've got left after Snow White—Oh!" The woman clamped her hands over her mouth, looking quite shocked with herself. Red just smiled sadly at her, and looked down at his hands in his lap.

"Oh, Red…I'm really sorry! I shouldn't have brought that up—"

"It's fine," the baker interrupted. He looked up at her again, smiling sadly. "It's okay. It's been almost ten years…I'm sure most of the world's forgotten…all about that." He chuckled dryly, shaking his head. He immediately returned the topic of conversation to their original subject to avoid any further awkwardness between them. "So…about the Montblanc sisters…can you tell me anything about them?"

Arachne gave him an unsure gaze, which the cloaked baker returned with a reassuring, forgiving, smile. Tentatively, the seamstress replied. "Well, everyone can pretty much tell you the same thing, I think. Normal girls gone totally off the deep end. One day they're just simple kids and the next…sirens luring men to their domestic doom. I haven't seen so many divorces and break-ups in Tempus since…ever." Arachne shrugged.

"Marie and Susan are really sweet and sensible girls," she continued. "Not much to look at, really, compared to their mother in her prime, but _really_ great girls. If you were ever in a pinch, those girls would be the first to come running…" Arachne frowned, trying to figure out what else she could say that was of relevance, or what Red probably hadn't already heard from the town gossips.

"Their brother said that they just woke up they way they are now…d'you know when it happened, exactly?"

Arachne took a small bit of bacon that remained on her plate between her fingers and brought it thoughtfully to her mouth. "Hmmm..." she began, leaning back in her chair as she tried to remember. "I would say...well, about a month ago, now."

"Right, right, I know that—did anything..._unusual_ happen a month ago that you can recall?"

"Well...nothing too out of the ordinary." She tilted her head to one side, freshly dyed electric blue curls bobbing merrily. "Oh!" She sat up suddenly, green eyes wide. "The archery tournament to find Prince William a bride took place last month! All sorts of people showed up from all over the place to see who would win. Cinder's sisters were there. They became rather ill the day after, as I recall, and when they recovered...Well." Arachne shrugged, knowing that there was really nothing more to be said.

"Were you there?" Red asked, curious.

"I was for a bit, but I didn't see either Cinder or his sisters. It was quite warm outside, and besides, Mother doesn't like tending the shop during the day, so I couldn't stay very long."

"Ah." Red said, taking a reflective sip of his orange juice. The pair was quiet for a moment, before Red spoke up again: "Hey, Arachne?"

"Yes, Red?"

"When the heck are you going to find yourself a man and move out of your mother's place?"

Arachne smiled mischievously. "Right after you find yourself a man, of course."

Red scowled. Arachne laughed, amused. "Look, do you want to stay here while you try to figure out what's going on with the Montblancs?" she asked, returning the subject back to its original course.

"You just want me for my cakes," Red said, glaring. Arachne laughed again. She leaned her elbow on the table, propping her chin in her hand, and smiled warmly, contradicting her teasing tone.

"Possibly. Do you want to or not?"

"Fine." Red sighed and stood up to begin clearing the breakfast dishes. He'd spent a lot of time at Arachne's over the years, and the first thing he'd learned was that as Arachne's houseguest, he was not allowed to mooch around while she worked. Arachnia would probably be appalled to know how her daughter had bullied a young and impressionable Red into pulling his weight with her chores when the two had both been young children, but Arachne had been very careful to prevent her mother from finding out.

"I will love you forever and a day if you could run out and do the shopping after we finish clearing up," Arachne said as she plugged the sink and turned on the tap to begin filling it with hot water.

"What do you need?" Red asked, sighing slightly.

"The usual groceries. I've a list around here somewhere—I'll find it for you in a minute. And...well, if you wanted to add a few extra things for sweets later, I wouldn't complain..."

Red couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped as she said this last. His friend had an infamous sweet-tooth, and was notorious for both her subtle and not-so-subtle ploys to assuage it.

The two chatted amiably as they did the washing up, and then Arachne got out her shopping list and handed it to Red.

"Oh!" she exclaimed just as he was preparing to leave. "What happened to your basket?"

Red shuddered, remembering. "It got left behind at the Wicked Fairy's castle," he told her.

Arachne gave him a Look. Not that he blamed her—he had sort of skimmed over the bit in his tale where he'd been about to be molested by the slimy Fae, as well as his subsequent rescue at the hands of an unexpectedly heroic Wolf.

"Left behind?" she asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

"I was in a rush. Look, do you want these groceries or not?" Red asked irritably.

"Yes, yes, fine. Let me get you a basket, then." Arachne spun about, her full maroon skirts billowing out around her, and thumped up the stairs at the back of the shop to the small apartment she shared with her mother. Red waited patiently as he listened to the sounds of her rummaging about above, and was soon rewarded when she returned bearing a sturdy whicker basket that was quite similar to his old one.

"Here you are," she said, handing it over. Red took it with a smile, tugged his hood up, and stepped out of the shop. Hooking the basket's handle over his arm, he sighed slightly and began making his way towards the bustling market place.

All the while he thought about what he was going to do about his latest chore, which had gone further than just plain 'investigation' since Aunt Love's sudden appearance. She had insisted that he help her in her affairs to get Cinder and Prince William together. In order to do that, he figured, he had to undo whatever enchantment had suddenly hit the Montblanc girls (as there was no other explanation for their current behavior). It was either that or figure a way to kill them off, but he suspected that the murder of the two (annoying, but incredibly loved from the various accounts) girls wouldn't go very well.

The other choice was to get Cinder and William together, _then _concentrate on the two girls, which might be easier as he wouldn't have two divine entities breathing down his neck at that point. Then again, neither Death nor Love had mentioned ever returning the girls to normal—they had just wanted him to 'investigate', and to play matchmaker for the prince and the pauper. A feeling in his gut, however, told him that if he didn't try to rectify the problem now that he would truly be sorry for it later.

Decisions, decisions…Things had been so much easier when he had been a child. His instructions had been much clearer then, and he'd just done as he'd been told, readily and eagerly, hoping to please the one person who considered him a member of their family.

Red pulled out the list as he stopped in front of a stall plentiful with fresh vegetables and fruit. Especially apples. He stood in front of the large barrel full of beautiful galas ready for sale. He went through them, using his baker's critical eye to choose only the finest of the lot. He thought he might have gotten a little rusty in his ability to pick a suitable apple, considering that he hadn't dared to look at one for quite a few years, but he was pleased to find his eye was as keen as ever.

He held up a juicy looking red apple that was round and un-bruised, staring as its skin reflected the sun's light. He smiled at it sadly, remembering how he had spent a whole day once trying to find the perfect apple when he had been just a young lad of fifteen or sixteen. It had taken the better part of the day running around from town to town and farm to farm in search of the prettiest looking apple in the land.

Red sighed and asked the man at the stall how much a basket full of various vegetables and fruit would cost before paying him and moving on. "I'm sure Arachne will love to hear that we'll be having apple pie…" he said to himself, not paying much attention to where he was headed.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Red had never been into the latest news about royals—it was gossip that he preferred to do without. Considering this, and as someone who had only recently taken an interest in the royal family of Tempus, he didn't know the people of the aforementioned family as well as a subject of the kingdom would. In the baker-turned-matchmaker's case, he didn't personally know Prince William, as could only be expected of a humble baker who didn't even reside in the kingdom. He didn't even know as much about the prince as he did about his younger sibling Briar Rose. What he did know, though, did not match up with the event he had inadvertently stumbled upon. The scene unfolding before him was something the crown prince would most likely never do, out in public, were the man in his right mind.

"…That is the ugliest shade of _purple_ I have _ever_ seen in my _entire_ _life_." The cloaked man muttered to himself as Prince William, sporting an entire outfit composed almost completely of the grotesque color, and a posse including several guards and servants, strolled importantly about the market, looking to the stalls and shops filled with either expensive clothes, jewelry, or what have you. He blinked as the purple subtly changed to a strange sort of rose-pink when the man moved, and pulled a face a moment later as the two colors seemed to blend into one new, utterly hideous shade. It seriously hurt his eyes to look at.

He couldn't even _guess_ where that particular garment had come from, and he was sure that if Arachne were to see it she would be foaming at the mouth and threatening to rip it off the prince with two pairs of shears. He blanched, and began to back away a moment later when he noticed two others following leisurely some paces behind the prince and his men; two others who wore the distinctive colors of pink and purple, and who had voices that could alternately make angels envious or put a banshee to shame.

The whole scene quickly evolved into something akin to a huge, it's-so-awful-but-you-can't-look-away disaster. An old man, wobbling along up the street while leaning heavily on a cane, inadvertently bumped into an unwatched cart, which began to roll away. The cart knocked down a pole that was holding up a broken windowsill, where a bucket of dirty water had been set out. The bucket, bereft of its support, naturally went toppling down to the street below…and onto the heads of Marie and Susan who, moments later, despite all laws of physics, nature, and the universe, were no worse for the wear compared the poor old man who hurt his hip at the beginning of the accident.

Both girls screamed and shrieked terribly, moaning about how they had been attacked. Their horrid cries turned into pleas for help and retribution to which the prince and his men immediately began supplying definite promises of assistance (which sickened Red to no end). In front of a crowd of his people, Prince William sentenced a feeble, weak old man to death.

The two sisters, upon hearing this, gasped delicately and began to beg the prince not to be so harsh. They pleaded with him prettily with words full of charm, grace and love for all living things. What had been an impassive face of stone one moment turned into an expression of benevolence, which looked quite out of place on the usually taciturn prince's face. He held a hand over his heart and dramatically went on one knee and asked for _their_ forgiveness, which they readily gave, saying that he was a good man and that he would become the most wonderful king. Upon hearing this, he kissed the girls each on the forehead in a brotherly fashion, before turning to the still trembling and quite confused old man.

"Let it be known to thee that today thou art spared by the hand of the Ladies of the White Mountain." He said grandly, puffing out his chest in what seemed to be a proud manner. Red wondered when it was going to end and where he could find a good sturdy wall or tree which he could bang his head against in utter revulsion. He had heard cheesy lines and bad Ye Olde English before (mainly from his own mouth, admittedly), but _that_…

Red shuddered. "Lovely…so the fate of a kingdom rests upon my shoulders…again," he stated in resentment. Ironic Overpowers, he hated his life.

Even though he was fairly sure he didn't need to, Red ducked into a nearby alley and waited for the prince, his posse, and the two young women to disappear into the crowd. The last thing he wanted at that moment was to be recognized by the girls, and possibly kidnapped. Who knew what insidious tortures they would put him through in order to satisfy their sick, perverted desires? No, he could certainly do without being dressed in a frilly little frock and force-fed tea and biscuits, or whatever it was that fashionable ladies did these days.

Once he was sure the girls and the prince were quite out of sight, he returned to the street and his marketing. As he made his way to the local bakery to buy a loaf of bread, he reflected upon the event he had just witnessed.

Red didn't know a whole lot about Prince William—really, the only thing about the blond royal that he could remember at the moment was that the man was said to loathe the company of women. That made sense, however, given what he had learned from Aunt Love yesterday—if William was destined to fall in love with Cinder and live Happily Ever After with him, there was certainly no real reason for the man to have any affection at all for those of the fairer sex. That he seemed to be fawning over the two Montblanc girls nearly as much as they were over him was extremely out of character for the man, but still in keeping with what Aunt Love had already told him.

As Red approached the bakery--a small, quaint little shop nestled between a chandler's and a bookstore--he realized that it would probably be more productive to talk to someone about the prince who knew him personally, and not just through half-remembered rumors and hearsay. He would have to ask Arachne if she knew anyone like that. He would, he decided as he stepped into the bakery, focus primarily on getting Cinder and William together, since that was a very specific request, and quite unlike the rather ambiguous 'investigate the disturbance' chore which Death had written on his list. He wondered idly as he selected a loaf of bread from the rack whether or not William and Cinder already knew each other. He really hoped they did--that would no doubt make his job a lot easier in the long run.

The young man behind the counter smiled pleasantly at Red as he rang up his purchase. Red smiled back and ducked his head shyly; a practiced gesture that sometimes earned him discounts on his purchases. This was, he was pleased to see, one of those times. He smiled flirtatiously in gratitude, and was quite satisfied when the young man blushed as he handed Red his purchase and his change.

Feeling slightly better about life in general, Red left the bakery and continued with his shopping. It was well past noon by the time he finished and returned to Arachne's place, and he was once again starving.

"Oh, there you are! I was wondering what was taking so long!" Arachne said, looking up from where she was sitting behind the counter of the store as she worked on her latest project.

"There was a bit of an...incident," Red said, closing the door behind himself and striding through the store and into the kitchen.

"Oh yes? Do tell!" Arachne called from where she remained in the shop front.

And so Red related the incident with the prince and the Montblanc sisters as he put away the groceries. After he finished, Arachne didn't say much of anything for a little while as she thought that over. Red waited patiently for her verdict, and began searching through cupboards and drawers for ingredients and utensils to use for his pie.

"Well," Arachne said at length, just as Red finished laying everything out. "Maybe you should go talk to Cinder—he works at the glass shop just down the street. Do you know the place?" When Red answered the affirmative, she continued, "He was up for lunch while you were out shopping, babbling crazily about Prince William, and his awful transformation. I think it's loove," she proclaimed, sing-songing. Red rolled his eyes, but also heaved a sigh of relief. So Cinder and William _did_ know each other...that would make things easier.

"Great!" he said. "I'll go talk to him just as soon as I'm done here."

"Oh! What _are_ you doing, Red?" Arachne asked at last, finally noticing that the sounds coming from the kitchen were not the sort one usually associates with simply putting things away.

Red smirked. "Baking a pie," he told her.

Arachne squealed happily. "I love you!" she chirruped, rushing into the kitchen and glomping him from behind.

"Argh! Gerroff me, crazy woman!" Red exclaimed, trying to fend her off with his elbows. Arachne obliged, giggling, and returned to the shop. Red snorted, half irritated, half amused, and got to work on his pie.

-------------

A few hours later, Red stepped through the door of the glass shop where Cinder worked. There was no one in sight, though he could hear at least one person in the back. He started to call out, but hesitated as he glanced around.

There were two large, diamond paned windows at the front of the shop, one on either side of the door. Displayed on a shelf at the bottom of each window were many small, delicate figurines—flowers, insects, animals—Red even saw a couple of fairies and a unicorn in amongst the glass butterflies and mice. He shuddered slightly, and turned to have a look at the rest of the shop.

Most of the available wall-space was occupied by glass curio cabinets, inside which were even more delicate and beautiful figurines. Glass plates of all sizes and colors lined the wall all around the interior just beneath the ceiling. There was a wooden counter with a glass top and front near the back of the shop, which was lined with shelves (wooden, this time) upon which yet more figurines and dishware were displayed. Curious, Red stepped closer to the counter to have a look at the contents, and was interested to see contained within delicate bits of glass jewelry; pendants, bracelets, rings, hair clips...Each one a unique and beautiful bit of art.

"Hello, can I help you with something?" a voice asked, startling Red out of his somewhat awestruck trance. He looked up and caught sight of Cinder, whose eyes widened in recognition. "Oh! You're the boy from the other day! Are you lost again?"

"Uh, no." Red said, still a little dumbstruck at being surrounded by so many tiny bits of art. "I was looking for you, actually," he continued as he quickly gathered his wits. "Er I've got some questions for you...do you have time to talk right now, or should I come back later?"

Cinder looked a little surprised at Red's request, but shrugged his shoulders. "I've got time. Why don't you come sit down?" he said, gesturing to the back of the store. Red allowed himself to be ushered through the doorway and into the back of the shop. Cinder gestured to a bench, and Red seated himself. The glassblower took a chair and straddled the back of it, propping his arms up on the back and looking questioningly at Red.

"I know this seems sort of abrupt, but...can you tell me more about your sisters?"

Cinder made a face of complete and utter disbelief. "Aren't you a little young to be falling for their charms?" he asked, clearly disgusted.

Red wrinkled his nose. "Ugh...not like _that_!" he exclaimed, revolted at the very thought. "I'm interested in when exactly they stopped being nice, ordinary plain girls and turned into...well, a pair of banshees."

Cinder blinked owlishly, obviously taken aback. He pushed his glasses up his nose and considered for a moment before speaking again.

"Well, they took to their beds the day after last month's archery tournament. It wasn't long after that that they...well..."

"Were they at the archery tournament?" Red asked.

"Err, yes. I saw them there with Lord Heart. It was quite odd, now that I think about it," Cinder responded, looking suddenly thoughtful.

"Lord Heart?" Red asked in disbelief.

Something clicked in his mind just then. A terrible something that could only mean trouble, chaos and absolute destruction of life as he knew it. And that something was a simple thought--a thought that in some obscure way gave way to thinking that Fourteen might not be what he seemed. That deep down he was an evil psychopath bent on the total destruction of Tempus Kingdom--no! The entire world! Where fire and brimstone would fall from the skies, alternating with random intervals of frogs and toads, followed quickly by the sudden deaths of several firstborn children and anyone with the unfortunate middle name of Clarence--male _and_ female.

Of course, Red was known for rather doomful ideas, so he knew it would probably be best to ignore his paranoid thoughts and move on to more rationalized, slightly less paranoid ponderings.

_How strange that he keeps popping up in my life_, Red thought. _Even indirectly he's around me._ He smiled, thinking a bit on how gentlemanly the noble had acted the other night, how sweet and chaste he had been. What had he been eating to think of the guy like that when he hadn't even done anything wrong?

_Not like Wolf, though._ His ever errant mind reminded him, making him frown as he thought of the silver-haired man who had saved him and then run off to only Ironic Overpowers knows where. Pah. Who needed the guy anyway?

"Yes, Lord Heart," Cinder responded, slightly curious at Red's surprise.

"Huh..." Red wasn't sure what to make of that. Since they were on the topic, though, perhaps it might be best if he were to ask a few more questions. "What do you know about Lord Heart?"

Cinder shrugged. "About as much as the next person, I suppose. He's some relation of the King of Hearts—a cousin or something, I think. He travels around a lot, from what I understand; never stays in one place for too long. That's about all I know. Why? You don't suppose _he_...?" Cinder trailed off, leaving the utterly preposterous question half un-asked.

Red blinked, slightly surprised at the turn Cinder's thoughts had taken. While the idea that the pleasant Fourteen was somewhat more sinister than Red had initially assumed made his stomach twist unhappily, he also realized he couldn't rule it out as a possibility. Business always came before pleasure (and happiness, in Red's case), and he couldn't afford to make an exception just because he was a little unhappy.

"I don't know," Red said simply. The two sat in silence for a moment while Red tried to think of a way to phrase his next question, but Cinder spoke up before he could.

"Um...I don't mean to seem rude, but...why are you asking me these things?"

Red shifted uncomfortably on the bench, wondering how much he should say. He tried to keep his side occupation as chore-boy of the higher powers secret from as many people as possible. Folks usually didn't want to associate with him when they learned about some of the things he'd done as a result of the meddling of Death or Love or the Wicked Fairy or what have you.

"Well..." he began, mind working furiously. "Truthfully, it's because…I'm your fairy godm—er…_father_."

Cinder blinked.

"Erm, come again?" he inquired. The smith began to rub his ears, thinking he hadn't heard right. Had Red just said that he was his fairy godfather?"

Red gave a tiny laugh of embarrassment, wondering where that particular outburst had come from. Sure, he had come up with some random thoughts in his day (the pointing out of non-existent 'glowing magical fairy stones', being one), but he'd never imagined that what he had just admitted aloud would ever pass his lips. He decided that when he was done talking to Cinder that a thorough washing of his mouth with a bar of soap was in order.

On the plus side, however, the young glass blower looked so thoroughly confused that the baker just had to take advantage of the confusion while he still could. So, he decided to change the subject. To a rather _touchy_ subject, admittedly, but he knew he'd have to ask about it sooner or later. Red wondered briefly how he ought to go about asking, but then decided to just dive right in.

"Now, about William…"

Cinder frowned, thrown off guard by the abrupt change in subject. "What about him?"

What to do, what to do. Red had wanted to inquire about the full relationship between Cinder and William, but it would require getting a wee bit personal and he wasn't sure if he could do that. And considering how strained the younger man was looking despite his confusion, maybe it wasn't such a good idea. He might get defensive, and possibly a little violent. Poor sod probably didn't even realize he wasn't straight, yet. Quite a problem in the greater scheme of things, if you asked Red. Not that anyone ever did.

He decided that he should try to be as gentle as possible in his proceedings. An easy question would do. One that could spur Cinder on, yet remain totally innocuous…

"What can you tell me about the Crown Prince?"

Cinder frowned again and stared at Red suspiciously. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Ah, well, you see, the dear prince has inadvertently attracted the attention of your sisters, and is quite firmly under their spell. My superiors are worried that he's getting ready to propose to one of them," Red explained, amused that, for once, he was telling the complete truth.

Cinder leaned forward slightly in his chair, crossed his arms over the back, and rested his chin on them. He was silent for several moments, watching Red with his dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. Red, who had dealt with more than his fair share of suspicious stares in his day, gazed back calmly, waiting for the younger man to speak.

"So he proposes to one of them. What's the big deal?" the be-glassed man finally said, his tone casual.

"Long story short? He's not destined to marry either of them. If he does, it'll make a lot of people very unhappy, both now and in the years to come."

Cinder blinked and was silent for several minutes, digesting this. Finally, he sat up straight and shoved his glasses up his nose irritably, still clearly suspicious. "And what does this have to do with me, anyway?" he demanded.

Red shrugged. "Well, they're your sisters, for a start," he said.

"For a start?" Cinder repeated disbelievingly. Red watched him calmly, keeping his expression carefully neutral as he noticed the other man begin to fidget slightly in his seat. "Why do I suspect there are other reasons?"

"Possibly because there are," Red responded, expression serious. "Well, technically, there's only one more, and I think we both know what that is."

Cinder raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Why don't we pretend that I don't know what you're talking about, and you tell me?" he asked, voice almost dangerously quiet. Red hoped he wasn't about to be mauled—Cinder was a good seven or eight inches taller than he was, and built like a blacksmith. Who just happened to be a glass smith. Scooting forward ever so slightly on the bench in the event that he had to duck out of the way very quickly, he said,

"And because William is your friend."

Cinder blinked, then blushed very slightly. Red got the distinct impression that he had been thinking Red was going to say something else.

"H-How do you know that?" he asked, standing up from his seat to stalk over towards the fireplace, where he began to pace.

"I wouldn't be a very good fairy godfather if I didn't know a thing or two about my charges, now would I?" Red asked, relieved now that it looked as though he'd passed through the danger zone.

"Fairy godfath-...you're not a fairy!" Cinder said suddenly, turning to stare accusingly at Red. Red grimaced.

Red had to act fast. For the second time that day he allowed his imagination to run wild and hoped to every single deity out there that he wasn't about to say something he'd regret later on. "O-of course not! I'm wearing a…a…a Glamour! That's right!" Close shave, he thought. It was a good thing (or maybe not-so-good thing) that he spent so much time around fairies, otherwise he might have not found a good answer to give to Cinder. At the incredulous look he received, he decided to follow through with his current excuse.

He stood up from his seat, and began to gesture extravagantly with his hands as he began to explain. "And anyways…can't you tell I'm a fairy through this disguise? That underneath this mortal exterior beats the heart of an ancient magical being that houses a large knowledge of the world and a hearty, tinkling laugh that loves all things beautiful and free? Oh ho ho ho!" Alright, so he'd messed up the laugh a little. It was kind of hard to laugh like a fairy when one possessed the vocal cords of a human being, but at least he'd tried.

Cinder eyed the baker critically, a frown on his lips. "Now, let's say, hypothetically, that I told you I didn't believe you for one second and I will soon show you how I earned the title of 'best archer in the kingdom'."

Red stared back, looking a little perplexed. His mind rapidly sorted through several hours worth of random bits of conversation which he'd had with various people as he'd attempted to uncover the root of the 'disturbance' he was investigating. He recalled something that the vegetable seller down at the market had told him when he'd been shopping that morning, and something clicked in his mind. After that something clicked, several other 'somethings' clicked, and he suddenly wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or repeatedly bang his head against the nearest solid object.

"Now, let's say, hypothetically of course, that I asked you how you earned that title when it was only ever given to an unknown woman during the all-female archery tournament that was held last month?" The man in red had slowly worked himself up, still doing those vague, strange and over-elaborate hand gestures during the entirety of his little speech, and ended with an accusing finger at Cinder's bespectacled face.

Cinder had the decency to start sputtering nonsense as he tried to get out of his own mess. And here Red had expected an arrow on the butt for his efforts. It would seem that things were getting a little easier for him. And so, like the dolt that he was, he continued on.

"The all-female tournament that was meant to decide the future bride of the crown prince, William!"

Cinder went pale as a sheet and cut off his sputtering by closing his mouth with an audible snap. Red thought that the glass smith might be getting ready to throw him out--indeed, the man looked to be having some sort of internal argument. Red stood patiently, waiting for Cinder's decision. Finally, after nearly a minute of tense silence, Cinder crossed his arms and glared at Red.

"What do you want?" he asked.

_To go back to my bakery and never have to run errands for the Higher Powers again,_ Red thought. But what he said was, "All I want is to free Prince William from your sisters' spell so that he can realize his destiny, and so you can realize yours. A little cooperation on your part would be very helpful too." _Though at this point, I'm not betting on that last. Way to screw things up, Reaper,_ Red thought to himself in irritation. He wondered how he could force an uncooperative Cinder into both declaring his love for and kissing William. He'd probably be able to think of something, he was sure. He knew a very nice woman in the next town over who brewed cheap love potions. Slip a bit of that into Cinder's morning coffee, and the man would never know what hit him...of course, he'd have to arrange for William to be somewhere nearby, but that would be a mere technicality at that point...

"Why are you so concerned about Will--the prince, anyway? Aren't you _my_ 'fairy godfather'?" Cinder asked, jerking Red out of his musings. The hooded man was quick to notice Cinder's slip in reference to Prince William, as well as his continued disbelief in Red's...fairy-hood. 'Fairy-hood'. Gods, but he felt filthy. First order of business upon returning to Arachne's was a nice, hot bath with plenty of soap.

"I suggest you think about that on your own for a bit," Red answered. Even though their conversation had been brief, he now had quite a bit of new information to mull over and digest--half of it learned from Cinder, the other half from watching the man's expressive face and body language. "I'm afraid I must be going now--I've stayed too long." Red gestured flamboyantly, earning another irritated glare from Cinder, and ducked out of the back room back into the shop-front. He scurried out from behind the counter as Cinder shouted at him to wait just a damned minute, and fled the shop as Cinder emerged from the back in pursuit. Figuring he'd better stay in character inasmuch as his 'fairy godfather' schtick went, Red fled trailing his best imitation of tinkling fairy laughter, giving himself a headache in the process.

"Ohho ho ho ho!"


	11. The Stage Is Set

Time passed quickly after Red and Cinder's conversation at the glass shop. The young glassblower saw neither hide nor hair of his self-proclaimed fairy godfather since that day (sometimes he thought he did, but it was only ever quick glimpses from the corner of his eye, so he reasoned that he was just imagining things), so his life fell back into a routine of normalcy. Well, as normal as _his_ life could get, at any rate. He didn't bother going home anymore--all his time was occupied working on the commission he'd received from William. Instead of returning to his tiny attic room in the countryside manor, he chose to bunk with the other apprentices and smiths who lived at the back of the shop, finding that their company was far better than that of his sweet angels-turned-evil-sirens sisters. Although he felt guilty because he was leaving his mother alone with no one to care for her (and, deep down, he also worried that there would be no one to take care of his sisters), the feeling of guilt was immediately squashed when he remembered with hard resolve what he had to do...

He pondered the problem of William's enchantment for many long hours, though no solutions that had any merit whatsoever came to him. Day after day, the glasses and dishware William had ordered piled up around him, while he still remained bereft of ideas. He found himself randomly daydreaming about William-centric events from the past more and more often. In fact, his sugar-coated memories were beginning to occupy more of his attention than his so far ineffectual attempt to come up with a fool-proof idea to break the spell William was under. He wondered idly once or twice if his so-called 'fairy godfather' had any ideas, but then shook his head roughly, irritated at himself. The boy had probably just been having fun at him, though how he had known some of the things he had, Cinder had no idea. Perhaps he really _was_ a mystical benevolent being...or at least a kindly human interested in helping his fellow man.

Or maybe too many hours in the forge were making Cinder funny in the head.

It wouldn't be the first time that the fumes of the forge got to someone, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He cast a quick glance at the sign at the far westernmost wall that said, 'Not high for 2 days' in red paint, before returning to his work.

He picked up one of the finished plates, thinking of the reason that they were being made for. It wouldn't be long before the great Masquerade; it was tonight, after all, and William's servants were set to pick up the whole order by noon. Cinder had no doubt that this very evening William would be forced to choose a bride for himself, and it the realization alarmed him to no end, especially considering either one of his step-sisters was the potential bride. Continuing in that vein, his mind drifted over to thoughts of the crown prince again and he lost his grip on the glass dish, sending it shattering to the ground...

...like his life.

He had less than a day to figure out how to snap William out of that spell of his before it was too late.

...'Too late'? Hadn't he always told William that he needed to get married? For the good of the Kingdom, to preserve the royal line? What had happened to all that? So what if he _did_ marry one of Cinder's sisters? Whichever of the girls the prince picked would be perfectly thrilled, and the other one would be perfectly happy for the pair of them. Shouldn't that be what Cinder wanted for his best friend and his siblings? But the thought of William married to one of those...harpies...made his stomach twist in the most discomforting way. In fact, now that he was seriously thinking about it, the thought of William married to, well, _anyone_ made his stomach twist unhappily.

The fact that this line of thinking was causing him to feel physically nauseous rather alarmed Cinder, so he decided that he'd probably better not focus on how much happier he'd be if William remained single forever and instead focused on his work, which he had been neglecting in favor of rhetorical musing.

He needed advice, though. Badly. Maybe Arachne could give him some clue as to what to do. It wouldn't hurt to visit her later for lunch. He could even stay on after they were finished eating, as the prince's order was nearly finished, and would be completely packed up by noon. He was sure that, between the two of them, they could figure _something_ out that didn't involve the sudden disappearance or murder of his stepsisters (as well as the kidnapping of the crown prince, which was what he really wanted to do).

------

Down the street, Cinder's "fairy godfather" was wondering how he was going to get the glassblower and the prince together over a piping hot apple turnover and some warm milk. He had had over two weeks to mull over the situation--as well as to gather information and to trail (read: stalk) the subjects of his investigation. It was pretty hard as he never learned anything new about the sisters; nothing useful or interesting had cropped up since he'd finished his first initial investigation two weeks ago. On the other hand, though, it had been fun watching all of those men trying to win the affections of the girls, but it was getting pretty dangerous now that the girls were so close to William.

Red didn't know what to do. He'd never had to deal with such a situation before, and it was frustrating. He wished that the higher powers had dealt with this problem personally, instead of delegating it to him. Couldn't they just fix everything themselves? They _were_ the most powerful beings in the world, after all!

He sighed as he reached for his glass of milk and drained it in a few large gulps. He choked a bit at the end when the liquid went down the wrong way, but a few absent-minded thumps on his chest kept him from dying of suffocation. He still had so much to consider and not enough time to go over all of it. He knew a good place to get Cinder and William together would be at the Masquerade being held at Tempus Manor by what was left of the royal family this very evening, but the hitch here was getting Cinder to the party somehow. It wasn't as if he could show up at the young man's door, dressed in a gauzy tutu inside a shower of sparkles with magic wand in hand, and whisk him away...Or could he?

He shook his head violently at the thought and shuddered. Ugh. He hated this. He was starting to think like a bloody Fae.

Now, getting Cinder to the Masquerade. He supposed he could just sneak him in somehow, but it was much harder to get two people inside a heavily guarded party than it was one, and he was very sure he couldn't use the same distraction tactic he had used the last time he'd infiltrated a building owned by the Tempus royal family. No, Cinder had to have an invitation. Or maybe he could convince someone to take him in as a date...Yes, that would be a good idea. But who could he ask?

The thought of being a date brought to mind the image of an angelic smile and mismatched green and gray eyes that looked at him with nothing but pure (in all senses and definitions of the word) adoration. However, the nice thoughts of one of the few men he'd ever met who wouldn't try to take advantage of him were soon replaced with suspicious and doubtful ones as he recalled the bits he had learnt about the enigmatic man from Cinder. He might or might not have something to do with the metamorphosis of the Montblanc sisters and it troubled him greatly. He could only hope that the one he _assumed_ was his One True Love wasn't the culprit. He was such a handsome, kind and sweet gentleman that he'd have a hard time stomaching the knowledge.

Groaning with an oncoming headache, Red decided that a small break from any more hard assessment was necessary. He stood up from the kitchen table where he'd been sitting and cleaned up his eleven o'clock snack, then proceeded to go and check up on Arachne. It was the eve of the Masquerade, and the poor woman was very busy thanks to last minute orders for the rentals they kept aside for such exceptional and auspicious occasions. At the moment, the woman was ringing up the bill for a commissioned costume of a mad hatter to a familiar face.

Well, speak of the devil.

Fourteen noticed the approaching baker (sans his usual red cape for once) and his eyes lit up with a sparkle that made Red feel happy, yet guilty at the same time. How could he be so suspicious of such a wonderful man?

"Well, well. Hello, Red. How are you this fine morning?" the noble asked congenially, a bright smile on his lips. He stepped forward to take Red's hand and planted a kiss on his knuckles, causing the baker to blush lightly. Arachne watched with some interest, her lips pressed into a line.

"Er...I'm fine, thanks," Red responded, flustered.

Fourteen beamed, causing Red's blush to deepen. Arachne rolled her eyes from her vantage behind the counter.

"Splendid!" the blond noble proclaimed. He paused then, gazing fondly at Red, and seemed to consider something for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice sent shivers down Red's spine. "I don't suppose...would you do me the honor of joining me at the masquerade this evening as my date?"

Red blushed a fiery crimson, and tried not to grin like a fool. "I...I'd love to," he managed to respond.

Fourteen smiled happily and squeezed Red's hand, which he had neglected to release after he'd kissed it some moments before. He let go now and bowed, saying, "Wonderful! I'll pick you up at seven then, shall I?"

"Er, that sounds good," Red said, still blushing deeply.

Fourteen finished paying Arachne for his purchase, draped the garment bag over his arm, bowed to the pair of them, and left. Arachne very patiently waited until the bell over the door had completely stopped tinkling before rounding on Red.

"RED! You were supposed to be _my_ escort to the masque! Who's going to take me now?" she demanded, upset.

Red winced. "Uh...sorry?" he offered, trying to discreetly edge away. "I'm sure we can find someone else to go with you."

"Oh yeah? Like who?" she asked, glaring.

"Um..." Red paused briefly, considering. "What about...Cinder?" he asked, randomly tossing out a name.

Arachne blinked.

Red blinked.

"Perfect!" they exclaimed at the same time.

"Oh! But what would he wear?" Arachne exclaimed, having been hit with a sudden realization. "I don't think there's anything in his house he could use for the masque...and if there was, I bet my last gold coin it's been 'Marie-Su-ified.' This brought back thoughts of hideous pink and purple dresses and a certain set of despicably horrible princely clothes that should never be worn in public, _ever._ Both seamstress and baker shuddered in revulsion.

"Well, isn't there anything in here that he could wear?" Red asked, looking about the shop in the hopes of finding the young man a good suit or something similar. Arachne shook her head, long and loose curls (now dyed a bright shade of lime green) shifting with each movement.

"No, most of our costumes have been pretty much booked for the masque tonight." She replied, frowning thoughtfully. She looked towards the racks in the hope that something would catch her eye. "And the only things that aren't up for rent are commissioned works that are going to be picked up at midnight..." Red gave her a strange look.

"Midnight?" he repeated.

Arachne shrugged. "Oh, a strange pair commissioned mother and I to create costumes and matching accessories for a project of theirs. I think I told you about how they wanted glass slippers for one of their costumes?" She looked at the younger man expectedly and Red had the decency to blush. He vaguely remembered the conversation he'd had with the strangely haired woman some weeks ago, but at the time he hadn't been paying much attention to what she was talking about. "Well, anyways, they're picking them up at midnight...they were saying something about _irony_..."

Red furrowed his brows. "Can I see them?" he inquired. Arachne nodded, and led him over to a corner where a finished silver and white ball gown was on display on a mannequin next to another one dressed in a smart looking black evening suit. Looking for permission from Arachne first, he reached out to touch the expensive looking dress. He whistled in admiration at the soft texture of the fabric used for the gown, marveling at the little intricate embroidery that must have taken days to create.

"It's beautiful," he breathed.

"It was made for a man." Arachne said with a snicker, pointing out the height and gender differences of the dummies. Red blinked, then stepped away in surprise. Arachne laughed. "I was a little surprised myself, but I honesty thought they looked cute, despite the height difference." She wanted to address Red a bit more, but found that the young man was deep in thought as he stared hard at the white ball gown. She looked at him, then at the dress and back again a few times. She gasped.

"You're not considering..."

"...having Cinder wear this dress?" Red finished. He shrugged in indifference, but the little smirk on his lips betrayed what lurked inside his mind. Even though he suggested that they go through the leftovers of the shop (they being a leather trench coat, a silver wig, a pair of military pants, knee high boots, and a sword taller than the Wicked Fairy; as well as a black wig, a red bandanna, a crimson cape that was ripped artfully at the edges with a strange pair of golden boots and a metal claw), he had already decided that he wanted Cinder to wear the dress.

Red held up the black wig for inspection, wondering if it would help with the glassblower's deficiency in hair. He also wondered if Cinder could see without his glasses or not, because they were going to have to construct the perfect mask for him to wear over his face. But both he and Arachne were going to go have lunch first before starting any projects.

"Yes, everything's going according to plan!" Red said with undisguised glee.

"According to what plan, now...fairy _godfather_?"

The baker jumped a mile, before whirling around to catch sight of Cinder, who had just entered the shop.

---------

Somewhere where no mortal being had ever ventured and where few higher powers dared tread, a demon was cackling to herself as she watched the world below, lying on her stomach with her feet kicking back and forth in the air. Her chin was propped up on the palms on her hands and there was a huge grin plastered on her face.

"Excellent. Everything's going according to plan," she said to herself, chuckling. Hopping to her feet, she thought seriously for a moment about something, her face showing a myriad of expressions as she decided what to do next. She suddenly cackled, a sound that carried and echoed deep into eternity.

"Oh, man! I've always wanted to do this!" Clearing her throat, she set about pretending to pull the strings of an invisible marionette, a decidedly evil look on her already demonic face. "Dance, my puppets! Dance! Bwa ha ha ha haaaaaa!"

"My dear?" a muffled, angelic voice floated across the gap of time and space from several clouds over. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, angel," the demon called back.

"Oh, good," came the response. "Come sit over here with me, and we'll have tea. It looks like it's about to get interesting at last!"

"It was always interesting," the demon called back, but got up off her cloud and made her way over to the parlor table where the angel was already seated with the tea set. As ever, there was a two-liter bottle of cream soda sitting out for the demon, who twisted the lid off and took a grateful swig immediately after she sat down.

The two were silent from then on, as they focused their attention to the world below.

---------------

"Ah...er...well, what I meant was..." Red was stuttering, totally thrown off guard by Cinder's abrupt, seemingly random appearance. Cinder crossed his arms and stared evenly at Red, his expression unreadable as he waited for the baker to form some sort of coherent response.

"Cinder!" the tense moment was broken abruptly by Arachne, who threw herself at the young man and embraced him, nearly knocking him off his feet. Cinder returned the hug, looking amused.

"Hi, Arachne," he said as she pulled away. She beamed up at him.

"You're just in time for lunch! Why don't you join us?" she asked, even as she pulled him further into the shop and towards the kitchen in the back.

"Us?" Cinder repeated, sending an icy glare at Red.

"Of course! The three of us! It's perfect, because now you can help us with our plot!"

"Plot?" Cinder seemed confused. He allowed Arachne to lead him into the kitchen. After a moment, Red followed.

"Our plot to cure Prince William of his awful curse, of course! You've got a big part to play, so it's a good thing you're here!" Arachne told him as she practically shoved him into a chair. Cinder sat, and watched warily as Red slipped into the kitchen and began helping Arachne prepare lunch.

"And what's he doing here?" the glass smith asked after a moment in which nothing was said.

"Oh, didn't he tell you when you talked last? He's crashing here until after the masque; his godmother...er, asked him to."

Cinder raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? My fairy godfather has a godmother of his own?" he asked.

"Your fairy _what?_" Arachne exclaimed, turning away from the sink where she was washing lettuce to stare at Red, who carefully avoided her eyes and said nothing, focusing completely on the onion he was slicing.

"He said he was my fairy godfather," Cinder repeated, wondering why Arachne sounded so surprised. He was surprised himself a moment later when Arachne burst into peals of hysterical laughter.

"Oh my, Red, did you really?" she managed to gasp out between mirthful snickers. Red pursed his lips and continued to say nothing. This was as much of an affirmative as Arachne needed, and it sent her off on another bout of giggles. In the mean time, Red piled the sliced onion on a plate and reached for a tomato, which he began slicing with the sort of extra-attentive care most heart surgeons give in the middle of an operation.

The glass blower looked between the two of them, brows furrowing. "Was there a joke that I missed or something?" he asked, sounding a bit put out. He watched as Arachne's laughter finally ebbed and she was able to give him a proper answer.

"Nothing, nothing. I just find it completely ironic," she said. Seeing the confused look on Cinder's face, she burst into giggles again. "R-red…let me have that. Go and explain the plan to Cinder…I'll cook." She took over the chopping and slicing, the occasional chuckle escaping her lips as she imagined Red prancing around with huge butterfly wings, sparkles that floated in the air and followed him everywhere, and a cute little wand to top it off.

Red had less pleasing thoughts on his mind and he cursed it for giving Cinder such a stupid excuse in the first place. He looked at Cinder, who gazed back with a suspicious expression on his soot-covered face. Quietly, he went to find a clean dishtowel and soaked it in water. Wringing it of excess liquid, he brought it over to the glass smith at the kitchen table. He held it out and waited for the man to take it. Cinder raised an eyebrow at the gesture.

"You look like you've been through a chimney." Red stated. "If you won't clean yourself up, I will do it for you while fussing like the fairy godfather you never had. And believe me, I'd rather not be fussing about, and you don't want me to." Cinder accepted the wet cloth and took his glasses off so he could clean his face. There were several moments of awkward silence where the only noise was the rustling of Arachne's skirt and a knife chopping potatoes.

Finally, Cinder replaced his glasses and spoke first. "So…if you're not my fairy godfather…then who are you?" he inquired.

Red shrugged. "My name is Red Reaper…or Inlaw…or Muffet. Depends on who you talk to, really." He replied. He looked expectantly at Cinder and saw that there was a spark of recognition—of what he wasn't sure—at least until Cinder opened his mouth.

"Inlaw? Isn't that the same last name as that infamous pirate 'Jack-Be-Nimble' Inlaw?" he asked. "I used to hear stories about him from my father when I was young. I heard he met a gristly end at the hands of a—"

"Arachne! How's that lunch coming along?" Red interrupted, his voice rather loud and with a tone of forced cheerfulness. There was a huge fake smile plastered on his face that he hoped the younger man would catch.

"Almost ready," Arachne responded, turning around and shooting a warning glare at Cinder. Cinder blinked, glanced between his glaring friend and the suddenly uncomfortable looking young man, and decided that he'd probably better change the subject.

"So, uh...How long have you two known each other?" he asked, hoping that this would be a safer question.

Red glanced at Arachne, who had turned back to the final preparations for their lunch. "About...seventeen years?" he ventured, trying to calculate in his mind.

"Closer to eighteen," Arachne told him absentmindedly.

Cinder blinked as this information was imparted to him.

"Are you sure?" Red asked Arachne, even as he began counting on his fingers.

"Yes, I'm sure...you were seven, I was eight. Ah, what fun we had then..." Arachne trailed off, clearly becoming swept up in fond memories of their youth.

"Er...how old are you now, then, if you don't mind my asking?" Cinder asked, turning once more to Red.

Red couldn't help but smirk a bit. "I'm twenty-five," he said.

Cinder blinked again, and couldn't think of anything to say other than, "Huh."

"Red, tell him about the plan!" Arachne urged. She was finishing up preparations, and was now setting things on the table.

"Right. The plan." Red swiped two slices of freshly baked bread and the jar of mustard Arachne had just set down. "Arachne needs an escort to the masquerade tomorrow night, and so we both think you should do it," he said as he spread a generous portion of mustard on one of his slices of bread.

Cinder blinked. "That sounds fine, but what does this have to do with Will-, er, Prince William?" he asked, cautiously reaching across the table to grab some bread for himself.

Arachne had placed the last of the dishes on the table by this point, and seated herself. "Oh, everything," she said, calmly swiping some bread for herself. "Tell him, Red," she prompted.

"Why don't _you_ tell him? You seem to be enjoying this a lot more than I am," Red grumbled, relinquishing his hold on the mustard to Arachne's questing hand.

"Oh, gladly." She said, generously spreading the mustard on a slice of bread. Daintily, she cleared her throat, giving a petit little cough that could have been described as cute—before dropping the bomb. She took a big breath and cheerfully said, "YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK THE SPELL WITH LOVE'S FIRST KISS!"

Silence.

Crickets.

And a ton of bricks falling off a roof somewhere down the street.

Cinder finally realized that he was choking on his sandwich when the shock of the woman's statement passed. Red thumped his back a few times as Arachne rushed to get him a glass of water. The crisis of choking on a mustard-lettuce-ham-tomato sandwich avoided for the moment, he addressed the new issue at hand with a proper,

"WHAT!"

Arachne giggled, while Red just smiled in sympathy. He patted the younger man's back to comfort him, though Cinder looked far from comforted judging from how pale he had suddenly gone.

"WHAT!" he repeated himself, after a time. "Wh-what do you mean by that?"

"I mean what I mean, Cinder." Arachne said with all the seriousness she could muster, which was a lot. She looked so somber Cinder vaguely wondered where his bubbling childhood friend had gone and who this strange person who had taken her place was. Seeing the look on his face, Arachne softened up into a cheerful smile. Putting a hand on his head, she ruffled up his hair. "Oh, Red…my little Cinder's growing up…falling in love with his One and Only!" She sniffled and became a bit teary-eyed. "It almost breaks my heart, really!"

Red snorted and bit into his sandwich. Cinder spluttered indignantly, completely failing to make any coherent sense at all.

"I'm not quite sure he was ready for that, Arachne," Red said around a mouthful of ham and mustard once Cinder had moved away from indignant splutterings to vehement denials.

"Oh? And how would you have done it, pray tell?" Arachne asked, arching an eyebrow and taking a big bite out of her own sandwich.

"I would've eased him into it a bit more. You know, given him time to get used to the idea, instead of just...smacking him with it."

Arachne shrugged and chewed for a moment before she responded, "Well, you left the telling up to me. You never said how you wanted me to do it."

Red glared at her, but had to admit she had a point.

"Excuse me? Can we get back to me explaining how I'm not in love with William?" Cinder interrupted, finally managing to make himself heard.

"No," Arachne responded, leaning over to squeeze his shoulder briefly. "We were never talking about that in the first place. Anyway, back to our plan..."

"I don't want to know about your 'plan!'" Cinder exclaimed, glaring.

"Then you don't want to get the prince back to his usual surly, misogynistic self?" Arachne asked, raising a well-manicured eyebrow.

"And I suppose you'll be giving your blessing when he marries one of your sisters, then?" Red added, glancing slyly at Cinder from the corner of his eye before taking another bite of his food.

"There's no proof of that!" Cinder said, rounding on Red. "How do I know you didn't just make that up, _Godfather_?"

Red shrugged. "You've clearly not been out and about recently, if you've managed to miss the way he's been fawning over those two. It's disturbing, to say the least, even if you don't know about his royal highness' dislike of women."

"Which begs the question: What _does_ he like?" Arachne pointed out with an almost unholy gleam in her bright green eyes. Anyone who knew the woman well (and these two certainly knew her very well) would know that no good could come out of that look. Luckily, it was aimed at Cinder this time and not at Red, so the man with the long braid just grinned at the only other male present at the kitchen table.

"I don't know, Arachne…what do _you_ think the crown prince likes?" Red asked, playing along. For once the heat wasn't on him, and he was going to enjoy it like nothing else.

"Hmmm…_I_ think that the prince likes young men with soot all over them." Arachne replied deviously. A manicured finger tapped her chin as she joyfully watched Cinder squirm uncomfortably in his seat. "Don't you agree, Red?"

"Indeed, I do, Arachne." Red concurred firmly. "William must like sooty men very much, indeed."

Cinder squirmed and blushed. "This is all just wild speculation on your parts, of course," he said, trying to sound convincing. He didn't entirely succeed, however, because at the same time he was trying very hard to convince himself that what they were saying wasn't true. He was having a rather difficult time of it, though. The problem was, he reflected with no small amount of alarm, the problem was, he _wanted_ it to be true.

"So much that he would never _willingly_ marry a silly chit of a girl who's younger than his sister," Arachne continued, oblivious to Cinder's private thoughts.

"Right! What if he wakes up one morning next to his wife and realizes he made a horrible, horrible mistake? It could spell the ruin of the kingdom!" Red added, gesturing dramatically.

Cinder glared at the smaller man, and tried to gather some shreds of logic. "It'll spell the ruin of the kingdom if he runs off with a man!" he said irritably.

"Not necessarily," Arachne said, a knowing smile on her lips. Cinder narrowed his eyes at her and asked,

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Arachne began, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Let's say dear William procreates, and produces an heir, and the royal family line continues. A hundred years in the future when a noble and handsome prince from a far-away land braves the trials of the thorn covered palace, awakens the fair princess within, and breaks the sleeping spell over her family, King Bartolby will wake up to discover that his kingdom is being ruled by a grandson or a great-grandson. I don't think that will go over very well, do you?"

Cinder blinked, and shoved his glasses up his nose. It was true, Bartolby was a right jealous old bastard, on top of being illiterate and a bit of an ass. He couldn't imagine the man taking kindly to waking up a hundred years hence to find that his kingdom was being run by some upstart relative, grandson or no.

"And it's not like Tempus' stewards can't run the place for the next hundred years or so. They've done it before," Red pointed out, backing up Arachne's very logical argument.

"And besides," Arachne chirped, "no one needs to know that you're a man!" Silence followed this statement. Red said nothing, because he was enjoying himself too much to ruin the moment, while Cinder was quiet because he had been sent into shock, yet again. Several thoughts were going through the glassblower's mind. Some of them along the more rational, while the rest were fantastical and even downright crazy.

He had already donned a dress with a corset and a wig and everything once, in the name of William, and he had promised himself he would never make such a spectacle of himself again. Considering how muddled his mind was at the moment, he simply assumed he would be cross-dressing. And he discovered he had assumed right a moment later when Arachne and Red pulled him out into the shop front to have a look at the dress he was to wear.

Not touching the fabric (he was rather dirty and caked in soot, after all), he looked at it almost longing, actually considering all of this. Of course, he had only considered for a few mere seconds, so that didn't count for much in the long run.

"This is pure insanity." he said to them. "Absolutely crazy."

Arachne patted his shoulder. "No one said love was easy." she told him gently.

He shook his head, still in denial. "But he...I...we can't..."

"Can't get you close to the prince unless folks think you're a woman, you're right," Red interrupted. He stared critically between Cinder and the dress, then nodded decisively. "It looks like it was made for him," he commented, a little surprised.

Arachne nodded in agreement. "Yes, it does, doesn't it?" she replied, also looking between Cinder and the dress. "The gent who had it commissioned was actually right about Cinder's build, now that I think of it. Most convenient."

"A...a _man_ had that commissioned?" Cinder asked weakly. To say that he was feeling rather overwhelmed at this point would be an understatement. Arachne and Red had just sort of picked him up and dragged him along on what he privately considered a mad lark, and despite his best efforts he found himself powerless to resist. He was slowly admitting to himself in the deepest, most private parts of his mind that the result of this crazy farce, should they be able to pull it off, was something that he wouldn't be unhappy with at all, and that was not helping the rational part of his mind argue against this whole insane idea.

"Mmm, yes. He was quite a looker, too...Dark brown eyes, stylish black hair..." Arachne told him, gesturing at the white dress. "Tall, dark, handsome...Mmmm," with a contented smile, Arachne allowed herself to swoon as she remembered that particular customer.

"And what about the suit, then?" Red asked, gesturing to the smaller black garment.

"Oh, he had a lady friend with them...I think they're doing some sort of gender-swap for a party they're going to. They're a really cute couple," Arachne told him. "Very friendly."

"Ah," Red said.

"So, what do you think Cinder…are you up for adventure, intrigue, and murder most foul?" Arachne inquired cheerfully, sending the younger man into sputterings. "Good lord, man. I thought you had more backbone than this! C'mon! Let's see if this dress actually fits." She took the gown off of the mannequin carefully, and then hooked her arm into Cinder's, dragging him into the changing area, leaving Red behind to listen to the shuffling of clothing and the protests of Cinder.

He grinned the entire time.

"Agh! How in the _world_ do you get this on?"

"You're doing it wrong! Here, move it so…"

"Hey! Arachne! Watch it!"

"Hold _still_, you baby!"

"A-arachne!"

"Red! Hand me the wig!"

Red did as he was told, smirking a bit.

"What the...!"

"Did I not just tell you to hold still!"

"Agh! Don't touch that!"

This continued for a little while longer while Cinder struggled behind the curtain with Arachne, as they had problems putting the dress on. Even if the man had dressed as a woman before, he had still required a lot of help from William (a thought that silenced him long enough for Arachne to finish doing the clasps). Unceremoniously, Cinder was pushed out of the little changing room into view, almost stumbling on his many layers of skirt. The seamstress came out, looking rather pleased with herself.

"Doesn't he look so pretty?" she asked, straightening the wig on Cinder's head a bit. She stepped back and looked him over, frowning a little and making Cinder suspicious that she was going to put something else on him. "Hmm…something's missing…"

"My dignity?" Cinder tried.

Arachne waved the comment off dismissively as she looked the young man up and down, a little surprised that the dress was too long…"Oh!" She quickly rushed off into the storeroom for a few minutes. The men waited as she rummaged through the slightly dusty room before coming back out with a box, grinning. Arachne lifted the lid, and the two men saw nestled within a pair of glass slippers. 

"Found them! These are the shoes I commissioned from you, remember, Cinder?" she asked the glass smith. He blinked down at the slippers in question, and looked both embarrassed at the prospect of wearing such things, while feeling a touch of pride that he had made such a beautiful pair of shoes. "Let's see if they fit you as well as this dress does…"

"Arachne, I made those for _you_. There is no way they're going to fit _me_!" Cinder tried to reason, even as Arachne pushed him down none too gently into a chair and fished one of his feet out from beneath the many layers of skirt.

"You never know until you try!" Arachne responded cheerfully as she slid one of the slippers easily onto his foot. "There, see? Perfect fit."

"Arachne, the only way that would be possible is if your feet are as big as mine, and were I you, that is _not_ something I would want to advertise," Cinder said bluntly. He was in no mood to attempt platitudes, and a small part of his mind was still very sensibly trying to get him out of what was every minute looking to be an even more terrible idea.

"Or unless I didn't actually give you the measurements for my feet," Arachne responded sweetly, dragging Cinder's other foot into view and giving it the same treatment she had the first. "I told you, the gent who commissioned this dress wanted matching slippers. There! Stand up!" she said, standing up herself and dusting off her skirts. Cinder glared at her but did as she said, wobbling slightly as he rose to his full height.

"There, see? I knew it! Much better!" Arachne exclaimed, walking slowly around Cinder to examine the fall of the skirt.

"If my father could see me now, he'd die all over again of shame," Cinder moaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Nonsense!" Arachne interjected, poking him in the stomach to make him stand up straight again. "He'd be proud to have such a beautiful son."

Red privately thought that 'beautiful' was not the word he would use to describe Cinder. The man was good-looking, admittedly, but even in a dress it was easy to tell that that was what he was. The Adam's apple and the very faint shadow of an unshaven face were dead giveaways, if nothing else. Add the broad shoulders, muscular chest, and narrow hips to the mix, and it was fairly clear that what stood before him was not a pretty young woman, but a handsome young man. In drag.

Red vaguely wondered if any amount of make-up could help with this problem. And maybe a corset filled with…hmm…small sacks of water? That would certain fix the lack of chest. Maybe they could use whalebone to puff up the skirts so it looked like he had some hips. But he knew even that wouldn't do. People like himself and Briar Rose simply looked feminine enough to pass as girls, even if they had no bosoms to speak of. But Cinder, as slim as he was, was still too masculine to be passed off as a female.

But he kept such thoughts to himself as he watched Arachne try to teach Cinder how to walk around in heels. It was an amusing experience, to say the least, and one he had (thankfully) never found the need to do himself.

Well, maybe no one could tell he was a man if they didn't look really close.

"Come on Cinderella, move like this. Ladies don't stomp around—especially not in glass slippers." The seamstress chastised with a wag of her finger. She began to walk about in an effort to show Cinder just how it was done, taking on a rather sassy pose when she stood in front of him again. The young man gave a long suffering sigh as he puffed up his skirts before walking as Arachne had shown him—although a little unsteadily. At least she had asked for slippers and not stilettos. Ironic Overpowers only knew what would have happened if he had to walk in those.

Arachne clapped in delight. "That was wonderful, Cinderella!" she praised, much to his chagrin.

"Can I take this stuff off now?" he asked, barely able to keep the whining edge off of his voice. Arachne was about to reprimand him, but she accidentally caught sight of the time, and suddenly flew into a tizzy trying to get Cinder out of the dress as quickly as possible without ripping it. She did it with little effort, but left the young man rather naked in the middle of the store. There were a few catcalls and some wolf whistles from a group of masque goers that had just entered the shop to pick-up their rentals, mortifying the glassblower and causing him to retreat to the dubious safety of the changing room to get some clothes on.

Giggling, Arachne put the dress back on its mannequin as Red helped Cinder get his act together before sending him back to the glass shop where a few last minute preparations were still left to be made. Arachne told him to come back by four-thirty—five at the latest so she could work on getting him all made up. Cinder made a face when she told him this—he was looking forward to that about as much as a convict looked forward to being hung, but he nodded in promise before rushing off nevertheless.

Well, it would seem that everything was finally falling into place. If all went well, after tonight, Red could hang up his cloak for a few weeks and go on holiday. He began imagining the sort of vacation he was going to take: It would be absolute bliss! He could go to the shores of the open sea, bask in the sun—maybe even visit his other 'extended family'. Thinking it over though, visiting said members of his rather elusive family might not be such a good idea...

Still, he was in the best mood he had been in the last month or so and he began to stroll into the back of the shop when Arachne (back from giving the customers their costumes for the night) dropped a hand upon his shoulder.

"Oh-ho? And just where do you think you're going, Red, my dear?" she asked, the unholy gleam back in her eye and an evil smirk on her lips. "There's still the matter of your costume for the night."

"I-I thought I was going as 'Red Death'?" he answered. A few days ago, he and Arachne had spent a full day going through un-rented costume after un-rented costume in order to find the perfect ones for them. He had decided to go as Red Death, while Arachne would compliment him in her Elven Lady costume.

"Well, considering you're not my date anymore, I thought that a change in outfits was in order…look at what I found." She said, holding up Red's new costume for the Masquerade. The man's jaw dropped in ill disguised disgust and horror as he took in the garment she wanted him to wear.

"That is…I…no way! There is no way I'm wearing a skirt again!" he told her, vehemently refusing with a furious shake of his head.

"It's either this, or you go naked." Arachne threatened. "And don't even think about sneaking out with the Red Death costume…I just rented it out to a bloke with a white mask covering half of his face."

"You what!" Red couldn't believe this.

Arachne giggled. "Oh, well…no choice! Now go try on your new outfit so I can get it properly adjusted for you!" she chirped cheerfully, pushing the grumbling baker into the vacant changing room. Satisfied with a job well done, she turned to go and wait by the counter when she heard the little bell at the door chime as another customer came in. She gasped in delight as she recognized who it was, and quickly removed his costume from one of the racks.

"Nice to see you, again! Here's the costume you ordered," she said, ringing up the item at the register.

The customer gave her a pleasant smile as he gently stroked the costume, felt its softness underneath his fingers. It was a definite change from what he was used to wearing, but he was sure it would be very appreciated by his other half.

"Thanks, Arachne," he said with a smile. "Have you found yourself a nice man, yet?" the man asked, voice as smooth as silk. Arachne laughed and shook her head, wrapping the costume carefully with neat brown paper and twine. "Oh, well. Too bad, then, I suppose. But then, most of the villagers here should be happy that you're staying single for so long. On the other hand, though, some might mistake your lack of interest in others as something a bit more troubling," he said in a teasing tone.

"Ah, what it is to live as a nun!" Arachne joked. "But seriously, I just haven't met the right guy just yet."

The man laughed. "Well, cheer up. I'm sure you'll meet your One and Only one day." He took the package with his costume and tucked it under his arm and turned to head out, waving to her as he grinned.

"See you Warren!" Arachne said, returning the smile and wave.

'Warren' grinned a wolfish grin as he strode out of the shop, sparing a brief glance in the direction of the changing room, where he could just see the ankles of a young man as he struggled with his clothes behind the curtain. "Later, Arachne!"


	12. The Masquerade

"Red, my dear, you look beautiful!"

Fourteen had arrived to pick Red up for the masque, decked out in his Mad Hatter costume. He took Red's hand in his and kissed his knuckles. Red blushed and looked down, flicking his skirt self-consciously, doing his best to ignore Cinder's incredulous stare. 

"Thank you," he muttered, hoping he didn't look like too much of an idiot. He sneaked a glance at Fourteen, and saw that the blond noble looked absolutely splendid in his green suit.

"Mademoiselle Arachne, you look lovely, as always," Fourteen said, dropping Red's hand with one last squeeze to take hold of Arachne's. The seamstress giggled and allowed the noble to kiss her hand, blushing cutely.

"And this young miss is quite lovely as well!" Fourteen continued, turning at last to Cinder, who was once more decked out in the white dress and wig. This time, however, Arachne had added a whalebone corset, a pair of suede bags filled with sand to create a bosom, faux diamonds at neck, ears, and wrists, quite a lot of make-up, and a white, feather mask which covered the top half of his face. Red had to admit, under Arachne's expert hand, Cinder had turned into quite the lovely young lady. Rather tall, but still lovely. He only hoped the illusion would hold through to midnight.

"Lord Heart, this is my friend Cinderella," Arachne said smoothly, introducing the two. Fourteen took Cinder's hand and kissed his knuckles much as he had with Red and Arachne.

"Charmed, my lady," he said, a genial smile upon his lips.

"Thank you, my lord," Cinder responded, his voice quiet. He had proved quite inept at impersonating a female voice, though Arachne had spent nearly an hour coaching him earlier that evening. There was no way anyone with half a brain would mistake his high, squeaky falsetto for anything remotely female--no matter how he'd tried, he had sounded like a man trying to sound like a woman. In the end, Arachne told him to only speak very quietly when he had to, and to not speak at all if he could help it.

Fourteen smiled broadly at them all, and gestured outside, where his carriage was waiting. "Let us be off, then, shall we?" he suggested, offering Red his arm. Blushing all the more, Red placed his fingers in the crook of Fourteen's elbow and allowed himself to be escorted outside, with Arachne and Cinder following behind.

Once in the carriage, it was Fourteen and Arachne who ended up chatting amiably, while both Cinder and Red sat more or less in silence, each lost in his own private thoughts.

Red was highly annoyed with Arachne for forcing him to wear a silly little shepherdess frock, though at the same time he was quite pleased with Fourteen's reaction. He glanced at the handsome noble seated beside him, talking away happily with the very agreeable Arachne. He had no idea how he had managed to attract the attention and affection of such a handsome, kind man, but he was incredibly happy nonetheless. He had spent a good portion of his life setting up other couples for true love and marriage...now, it seemed, he might finally be on his way to happiness himself.

...As soon as he worked out whether or not Fourteen was more than he appeared. He glanced once more at the attractive man beside him, sighed slightly, and turned to stare out the window.

Cinder's thoughts were somewhat similar to Red's, in that he was intensely annoyed with Arachne for stuffing him into not only a dress, but a corset as well. Never mind the make-up and the rather heavy fake bosom ("Quit'cher whining, Cinder," Arachne had said when he'd complained about the weight. "Try having them _attached_ to you twenty-four hours a day for the rest of your life, and _then_ you can whine."). He was more occupied, however, with thoughts of William, and of breaking the spell his friend was under. Red and Arachne both agreed that he was going to have to kiss Will, and that he was going to have to kiss him 'thoroughly' (as Arachne had put it). Red was also of the opinion that he had probably better throw in a heartfelt declaration of love while he was at it, though Cinder wasn't too sure about that. A kiss...even a very _thorough_ kiss, he could see, understand, and do. But a declaration of love...? He had only very recently begun having thoughts that Will might mean more to him than he had always believed. He was still very confused on this point, and having to act so drastically at this time was not something he was sure he could do.

The ride to Tempus Manor passed fairly swiftly, the way made easier the amiable buzz of conversation between Fourteen and Arachne, both of whom seemed content to allow their companions to sit quietly, lost in their private thoughts.

Tempus Manor was located about a half-hour's ride north of the city, and was really, to Red's mind, simply a glorified hunting lodge. Surrounded by a well manicured lawn surrounded by forest, it was where Prince William spent a good deal of his time, staying out of sight and mind of his eccentric parents and annoying younger sibling. This evening, it was lit up both by the remaining light of the quickly setting sun, and with the light of hundreds upon hundreds of candles. The atmosphere was at once exciting and soothing, adventurous and romantic. Red felt a smile tugging at his lips as he stepped out of the carriage and onto the driveway next to Fourteen, who once again offered his arm to the baker. Red hooked his arm through Fourteen's, feeling happier than he had in a long while. He may have a job to do tonight, but it looked as though he was also going to have a lot of fun as well.

Contrary to Red's content excitement, Cinder was a bundle of complete nerves. The closer he got to William, the clumsier and stupider he felt, dressed as he was to the nines...in women's clothing. He was very grateful for Arachne's presence at his side—even though he could tell she was excited, he could see that she was holding it in so that she could pay attention to him. It meant a lot to him at this moment, at this mad, completely insane moment, where every slightly wobbly step he took brought him closer to his best friend...and, according to Red and Arachne...his true love.

They entered the large manor together, and their presence was announced grandly before they entered the ballroom.

The place was completely packed. Red didn't think that there was a spot of floor that wasn't taken by a harlequin or a pirate or even, he glimpsed through the shifting crowd, the front end of a horse. Everywhere was a swirling mass of color and expensive fabric. Various masks stared back at him as they passed; faces of goblins, peacocks, skulls, and many other masks of grotesque and beautiful makes. It would be very easy to get lost in this crowd.

So it was with reluctance that he let Fourteen go to meet with a few of his acquaintances. The noble apologized and promised to come back for him as soon as possible. His promise was sealed with a fond kiss to his forehead and a few sweetly murmured words. Red blushed his namesake as he watched him go off into the crowd, lost in a sea of colors. Sighing, he turned to Arachne and Cinder, both of whom immediately looked anywhere but at him when they saw his gaze upon them.

Red cleared his throat and was about to speak, when a jovial voice cut in.

"Cinder! I thought I'd see you here! You're looking pretty as a picture, my dear boy, and no mistake! All dolled up for the Prince, are we?"

Cinder buried his face in his hands and groaned. Robin. His cousin appeared at his side, and clapped him companionably on the shoulder. Even behind his plain black mask, Cinder could see his eyes light up as he caught sight of Red and Arachne.

"And it looks like you've somehow managed to attract yourself some companions! And a pair of beauties they are too, unless I miss my guess," Robin said, sweeping a bow and capturing Red's and Arachne's hands for a kiss. "Why don't you introduce us, Cinder?" the masked bandit asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at his cousin.

Cinder sighed. "Arachne, Red, Robin. Robin, Arachne and Red," he said, glaring all the while at Robin.

"It's a pleasure, my dears—" Robin began, but was cut off.

"YOU!" Red exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger. "I remember you, you sanctimonious _bastard_! You stole my _basket_, you obnoxious, dog-faced son-of-a-whore! I hope you castrate yourself on your swanky tights, you loathsome, vile excuse for a human being! I hope you—"

Red's tirade or righteous wrath was cut short by Arachne, who almost carelessly leaned in and covered Red's mouth with a hand. "You'll have to excuse him, good sir," she said sweetly, easily holding the now rather violently struggling Red in place. "He's a little wound up at the moment...it's a big night, and all that..."

"Er..." there were a lot of things that Robin looked like he wanted to say after being yelled at and insulted by what appeared to be an innocent, pretty young woman. Finally, though, he settled on, "...'him', you say?"

Cinder actually snickered. "Yeah, Robin...Red's a man."

Robin looked like he wanted to be ill, but was too polite to actually do so. "I...er, see. Oh, look! I see Marion over there! I must be off!" and with that, he practically leapt into the crowd, and out of sight. Arachne waited for a moment to be sure that Red wouldn't begin spouting off loud, un-ladylike insults at the man's retreating back, and then let go of Red. He sniffed indignantly and brushed his skirt off. After a moment, he felt he'd collected about as much of his dignity as he could, so he returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"Alright. Time to put our plan into action," he said firmly, hands on his hips. "Now that we're inside the manor, all that matters is trying to get his royal pain in the arse together with Cinder so we can break that spell."

"But what about my sisters?" Cinder asked, coming to a realization. He realized that though he could (probably) break the spell his best friend was under, he highly doubted that the same technique would work on his stepsisters...Though the thought that he might have to try that particular tactic on either of his sisters made him want to retch. Red raised an eyebrow at him, but frowned a little as he pondered this problem.

"Well...we'll deal with it when we get there." The man in shepherdess' clothing said, fluffing up his skirt a bit. "First things first, we need to help Prince William out. The last thing we need to add to this mess is either Susan or Marie coming into royal power."

"Not that they don't have the prince under their thumb already." Arachne said under her breath. She checked the time on a pocket watch she'd decided to bring along in her little purse. "Alright. It's past seven-thirty. We have less than four hours to get this done."

Red nodded. "Right. Four hours...shouldn't be too hard, right Cinderella?" he asked, looking over at the younger man, who blanched visibly.

"Right...no problem," Cinder responded, though privately he was having reservations. How was he going to find William in this mess, much less _kiss_ him?

Red clapped his hands. "Good! Well...let's get going, then," he said. He himself had spotted the desserts table, and was quite eager to get over there and see what exactly was being served.

"See you in a while, boys-er, ladies," Arachne said absently; she had spotted a group of people she knew, and was even as she spoke on her way over to greet them.

"Right. See you, Cinder," Red said, before turning and diving into the crowd himself. He made as straight a line as possible for the dessert laden table, pushing his way through a mass of bodies, and was nearly there when someone banged into him and nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Oh, dear, I'm terribly sorry! It's so hard to move in these huge crowds! Are you alright?"

Red blinked up at the man addressing him, and had to blink again when he saw that the other was decked out in a wooly sheep costume. A plain black mask covered the top half of his face, and he had even gone so far as to powder his longish, pulled-back hair silvery-white to match the fleece of his costume.

"Um...I'm fine," Red said, straightening up and brushing off his skirt, though no real damage had been done.

"Here, let me help you...I really am sorry, I'm normally much more graceful, it's just that there's all these _people..._" the mysterious man explained, briefly placing his hand in the small of Red's back to begin steering him back on course to the dessert table.

"It's really alright," Red said, finding he was charmed by the man's sincere apologies almost despite himself. "These things happen at parties."

"Hmm...I suppose," the man allowed. They had arrived at their destination by this time, and Red found, to his surprise, that he was actually (for the moment) more interested in his new acquaintance than in the exquisite display of cakes and pastries set out on the long table.

"What's your name?" Red asked, almost before thinking. "I'm Red."

"Red? That's a pretty name," the man responded, smiling. "You can call me Warren," he continued, holding out a hand. Red placed his within, and Warren brought it to his lips, gently brushing his knuckles with a kiss. "Are you here by yourself, Red?" he asked, once he had returned Red's hand.

"Er, no...I came with some friends," he responded, suddenly shy to admit that he'd come with a date.

"Who obviously left you to meet with others at this party." Warren said, going over to the punch bowl to pour the both of them some drinks. He handed a glass to Red as he took a quick swig from his own. "But I suppose I can't be as angry with them as I should...I got to meet you, after all." He held out his glass to toast to Red, a gentle sort of smirk on his lips. The baker's lips suddenly tingled and he blushed a bright pink, remembering the ghost of another's lips on his, and he mentally berated himself for thinking such a thing.

_Red Reaper...Inlaw...Muffet...whatever!_ _What has gotten into you!_ He demanded of himself, smiling outwardly and raging inwardly at his mind. _Here is another perfectly nice and normal man and you're thinking about...about...**Wolf**. Stop. It._

His mind wouldn't do as he said. In fact, it was so rebellious that it dared to send him the few sweeter memories Red had shared with Wolf over the years that he often tried to shove into the darkness to be forgotten forever. It was a terrible internal war, but Red won for the day when he deftly pushed his mind over an imaginary cliff and instated another mind, which would hopefully be much more cooperative than its predecessor.

"Likewise, Warren," Red managed with a sweet smile. The baker would have continued to make small talk, had it not been for the arrival at that point of the twin terrors, Marie and Susan, bedecked in sparkling amethyst and rose tourmaline dresses. No, seriously. There was barely any fabric on the gowns--and the bits of fabric that did exist defied the laws of physics and metaphysics. All eyes were on them as they made a show of their procession into the ballroom. Men within their vicinity began to grovel, and good, just, and normally mellow women turned into figurative harpies.

It was a very sickening sight that got worse and worse with every step the girls took, as Red could hear some sort of music following the two, along with a tiny parade of strange-looking animals (a pink unicorn with a rainbow horn, a purple peacock with a rainbow tail, fuzzy little kittens colored in--well, you get the point). Following after their cute animal friends was a host Elven servants, which Red was astonished to recognize as the High Elven Consulate from the Castle of Half-Elven. How in the world such majestic and proud people had ended up the girls' slaves, he'd never know (but he did know that if he didn't do something about this soon, he was sure that the elves of the Castle of Half-Elven would take a small holiday from fighting trolls, goblins, hordes of zombies and various other nasties constantly plaguing their lands to declare war on Tempus for such insolence). He just hoped that Cinder could get to the prince in time...

Speaking of the Prince, he followed the girls soon afterward and with significantly less fanfare, but still rather overly ornate in its...Red couldn't even find the right word for _it_. It was just an _it_. There were no words for _it_ and _it_ gave the poor baker a strain on his brain trying to comprehend _it_. _It_ in its _it_-ness was _it_ and that was _it_. The only possible word for _it_ would fall short of _it_ by several miles, but he supposed it should be fine for _it_.

This entire thing was a _travesty_.

As the girls approached the dessert table, Warren pushed him behind his back, blocking his view of the procession, and the baker felt a pang in his heart--as well as a stab of anger. Now he knew how those women all felt, being pushed aside for those--

"They're gone now." Warren's voice cut through his reverie. The masked man turned to look at him, a smile on lips. "You alright? You looked ready to keel over when you saw them coming in."

Inwardly, Red was marveling at how righteous he was--how sweet he had been to shield him from those girls, how noble and kind...but his mind quickly turned to another, much more immediately important fact, and he said, "They...how come you're not a gibbering mess?"

Warren smiled a mysterious smile then, but shrugged. "I don't know, really. I guess I'm made of stronger stuff..." He put a hand on the small of Red's back, looking around again and scanning the crowd in case the girls decided to round on them again. Red blushed at how protective the man was being, and embarrassed at how much of a damsel in distress _he_ was being.

_I hope Cinder's doing better than me!_ Red thought worriedly.

"...or maybe it's because I've got something to protect right here. I've eyes for no one else."

A slightly cheesy line to be sure, and just a bit on the corny side, but it had its desired effect. Red (on the inside) melted into a puddle of goo.

---------

Cinder was not doing so well. In between getting squashed by people, pulled onto the dance floor by strange men and getting almost tripped up in his borrowed skirts and heels, he was having difficulty trying to get to William. Especially after that ridiculous entrance he and his sisters had made.

"Are those...fireworks outside?" he wondered aloud when the fanfare struck up to reveal his sisters and their entourage. He shook his head, trying to dispel the sudden bad feeling befalling him at the sight of William looking so...so...

Dead. Well, he was _alive_ (as one would have to be in order to move about, unless one happened to be a zombie hailing from the forests outside the Castle of Half-Elven), in a literal sense. But...he lacked the personality he was known to have: Brash, spoiled, anti-social in every sense of the word, a pain in the ass and, well..._his_ William, to be honest. Where had his best friend gone? Where had those times spent together flown off to? Since when did he willingly ask _women_ to dance, while keeping only eyes for his _sisters,_ who he had never met or spoken to before and yet now acted as if they had known each other all their lives?

The glass blower's mind was diving into a downward spiral of depression and he now felt twice as insecure and apprehensive of fulfilling the plan that Red and Arachne had so painstakingly made out for him. Doubt clouded his mind as he backed up into a corner of the room, getting ready to just sit and wallow in self-pity, when the most unexpected thing happened.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, squeezing it in a comforting gesture. He blinked and looked to the owner of the tender hand to find that it belonged to none other than his stepmother. Dark eyes widened as he took in her thin frame and beautiful looks that sickness and older age could never mar.

"M-maraget?" he said, almost without meaning to. The woman smiled and pulled him into a hug, one that he readily (though a little bewilderedly) returned.

"I knew it was you, even under all that make-up." She said, voice as soft as a summer breeze. She looked him up and down, eyes set to critical and concerned at the same time; a skill mothers receive after years of getting it from their own. She smiled and shook her head. "A mother knows--even if she's your stepmother. Oh, how I missed you, Cinder..."

"Margaret...what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked in concern, all thoughts of William, his sisters and everything else out the window for the moment. She waved these questions off, and steered him in the direction of some chairs so they could sit down. The woman sat with a sigh of relief, glad to be off for feet. She patted a seat next to her and Cinder sat obediently. She took his right hand in both of hers, holding onto it.

"I don't know how or why...but I felt that there was something wrong...that and you never visit me anymore," she said, giving him a pointed look to which he sheepishly blushed in reply. Her gaze softened and she squeezed his hand in reassurance. "But never mind that. I came here purely on woman's intuition...and a mother's worry. And I see that I was quite justified on both ends."

She paused.

"A mother knows when her children are in trouble...and I daresay there's been a lot of it in this family," she stated, her eyes gazing out over the gay and costumed crowd, milling about obliviously. Her eyes soon trailed down so that they looked at the floor. "I know I can't replace the mother you never knew...however, I _can_ still give you some sound advice..."

Cinder shifted uncomfortably. "Margaret, I..." He was gently shushed by a pair of soft fingers and an even softer voice.

"Your cousin Robin came to visit me earlier today." She told him, watching her stepson blanch. She chuckled softly and brought her fingers away. "He told me about the day you went to fight for your friend's freedom. He thought I should know that you are quite besotted."

Cinder blushed, and looked down to his lap, and was abruptly reminded of where he was and what he was doing and what he was dressed in. He stared at his skirt-covered legs, trying to think up of an excuse or just something to say. Silence stretched out between them, so Margaret took a breath and continued.

"Your father...loved you very much, you know." She said, choking on her words a bit. Cinder was shocked to see a few tears falling down her cheeks, though she smiled sweetly. Or perhaps, it was bittersweet. He didn't know. "And no matter what...he was always proud of you and whatever decisions you made. And I'm sure your mother would only want you happy...And so do I." She chuckled then and quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before he could pull out a handkerchief for her.

She stood up then, letting go of his hand. She looked upon him, eyes shining with what could only be described as motherly love, and Cinder had to fight from being emotional as well. Smiling fondly, she leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"I just wanted you to know that you have our blessings and love no matter what." She said. Reaching out, she smoothed a bit of his wig where it had gotten a little bedraggled. "Promise me, that tonight, you'll do the right thing for yourself, alright sweetheart?"

And with a final tearful and smiling glance, she was gone.

Cinder sat there for a while, staring down at his hands in his lap, pondering the older woman's words as the clock tower in town struck nine. She'd said that it was alright. That it was okay for him to do whatever he pleased--to follow his heart, in essence.

_But what does that entail?_

Looking up, he caught sight of William asking Marie to dance and he knew what to do. With sudden determination and inspiration, he knew _exactly_ what he had to do. No qualms, no hesitation, nothing. He had to do it. For the good of Tempus and its people, for the lives of his sisters and his parents, for the hard work of Arachne and Red...for his One and Only...William...

...and for himself.

Smiling rather prettily, he made his way through the crowd towards William and whatever fate the Higher Powers had decided for him. He would meet it gladly.

"Thanks, Mom." He whispered under his breath, both in reverence and as a prayer.

Outside Tempus Manor, Margaret stood next to a clocked figure under the moonlight, watching with wistful eyes at the cheerful scene before her. The final toll of the bells in the clock tower had long echoed into silence and the sounds of crickets and of the party before her was all that was left to the night. Sighing, the woman turned to her companion, curtseying.

"Thank you for letting me do this, my lady," she said humbly.

Death looked at Margaret kindly--not an easy feat for one without flesh to make these sorts of expressions. BELIEVE ME, MARGARET...ALL CHILDREN REQUIRE SOME SORT OF CLOSURE. I NEVER GAVE THAT TO MY RED...THE LEAST I CAN DO IS TO TRY AND LET OTHERS HAVE IT...

Margaret gazed at Death with understanding. "It must be hard watching the ones you love move on and die all around you." she said.

Death held out a bony hand and the woman took it willingly. YOU HAVE NO IDEA, she replied. With a small pull in the right direction, they were off.

-----------

With new resolve in his heart, Cinder set his mind to getting William away from his gaggle of female admirers, and on his own. This was definitely more difficult than it sounded, and it took him the better part of an hour before he was even able to elbow his way close enough to the prince to claim a dance, and another half hour after that before he actually managed to sweep William away from the crowd and onto the dance floor proper. The string orchestra which was set up on a tier at one end of the ballroom was currently playing a stately sort of waltz, which was at once a relief and a strain on Cinder. He knew how to waltz, but at the same time...

"You know, usually it's the _man_ who leads during a dance," the prince commented acidly as the opening bars of the piece began to play. Cinder flushed and silently cursed his stupid mistake, and relinquished all leading responsibilities to his friend. They were silent for a moment or two as they began spinning around the floor, and Cinder quietly marveled at how _good_ it felt to have William's hand in his, and his other on Cinder's waist. Cinder curled the fingers of his free hand around William's shoulder, and was abruptly startled to realize that he was a good few inches taller than his friend! How had he not noticed that before—oh, right, the shoes.

"I hope you're not holding out hopes for a proposal," William said, dragging Cinder out of his thoughts and back to the moment.

"I'm sorry?" Cinder asked. He wasn't sure he'd heard properly...Even though Will didn't realize who he was dancing with, surely he wouldn't be talking so bluntly about marriage to a newly acquainted dance partner...?

"I said, I won't be asking you to marry me. You're too tall. Do you realize how ridiculous we'd look together at state and social functions?"

Cinder couldn't help it when his jaw dropped slightly. When he realized he was gaping, he closed his mouth with a snap. That had sounded so like, and yet _unlike_ William, he wasn't sure for a moment how to respond. He tried assessing the prince's thoughts by staring into his eyes, which were normally a fairly accurate gauge for determining what William was thinking, but he remained as clueless as ever.

"I'm sorry, your highness seems to have taken the wrong impression of my asking for a dance," he said at length, remembering to speak softly. "The thought had not even entered my mind," he continued, lying through his teeth and smiling pleasantly.

William nodded, and they finished the dance in silence. Once the music stopped, William practically rushed back into the arms of an awaiting Marie, leaving Cinder by himself and feeling slightly at a loss.

Cinder returned to the edge of the crowd surrounding the dance floor and watched William dance with Marie, then Susan, then Marie again, then another young lady, before going back to Susan. He was asked for dances several times by various men, but he always turned them down. He did this for some time, until he was interrupted from his contemplation of his friend by a familiar voice.

"Oh, Miss Cinderella! Are you waiting for a dance partner?"

Cinder turned and blinked into a pair of mis-matched eyes.

"Um...Not really," he said, trying to speak as quietly as possible over the general buzz of conversation.

"Indeed?" the noble raised one well manicured eyebrow and smiled slightly. "There isn't anyone in the crowd that you'd care to dance with?"

"Well...not really," Cinder said again, privately wondering what the man wanted.

"I see...well, I don't suppose you'd do me the honor of—" Lord Heart was interrupted by a high pitched, girly squeal of delight.

"ALEXSANDEEERR!"

Both Cinder and Lord Heart turned towards the source of the ear-shattering call, and were treated to the sight of Susan, purple finery enhancing the almost mesmerizing jiggling of certain portions of her anatomy, flying towards them. She practically tackled Lord Heart in a most un-ladylike way. That was all Cinder stuck around to watch. He hastily retreated into the crowd, leaving the somewhat bewildered looking Lord Heart to deal with his errant step-sister.

Moments later, however, he was treated to a second delighted squeal of "ALEXSANDERR!" and realized that the current dance had ended and Marie was now also occupying Lord Heart's attention. That left only a gaggle of mere ordinary mortal females to harass William. This, Cinder realized, was the opportunity he had been waiting for all night! He began scanning the crowd, searching for his friend, and momentarily cursing Arachne for making him leave his glasses behind in favor of a feathery white mask.

Moments later, however, he was nearly laughing at himself when he caught sight of William. The prince's outfit would be difficult for even a completely _blind_ man to miss, and Cinder's vision wasn't nearly as bad as _that._ He made his way over to the prince, purposefully stepping on more than one dainty female foot in his hurry to get William away somewhere at least _semi-_private.

"Excuse me, my lord," Cinder said, his voice slightly breathless with excitement. He placed a hand on William's forearm and leaned close. "Would you do me the great honor of joining me for a moment on the terrace? I have something I desperately need your advice on; only your advice will do," he said, staring deep into William's eyes. If he knew one thing about his friend, it was that the man was not above a certain kind of flattery. He only hoped that his sisters' strange spell had not stripped William of that very vital character trait.

William blinked and looked vaguely puzzled, almost as if he was thinking two things at once. For a moment, Cinder was certain that he would refuse, but after blinking several times, William smirked (a very familiar expression that Cinder was only marginally alarmed to find made him weak in the knees), and offered his arm. "Of course, my lady," he said.

The pair made their way away from the crowd and towards the long open-air balcony that looked out over the back garden. It was deserted, oddly enough, and Cinder took that as a good sign. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he turned to William, and removed his mask.

As a dawning look of recognition was not forthcoming, he figured that taking off his mask was not going to do it. Not that he had really thought it would, but if it could allow him to cling to that one last hope that he wouldn't have to go all the way...Well, that didn't matter now.

"William," he said, leaning much closer to his friend than social mores dictated was proper. "I need to get this off my chest, but I'm not sure how to say it..." Cinder trailed off, distracted by his friend's ice-blue eyes. It had been so long since he'd seen them properly...

When William frowned and furrowed his brow in what Cinder could tell was frank irritation, he rushed on, doubts and worries forgotten. "I want you to know...if you want to run away with me, I'll go. I won't dance around the issue any more: I love you, and if you'll have me, I won't argue."

William looked as though he really wanted to say something—his face was awash with several complex emotions; confusion, bewilderment, annoyance, surprise...Cinder wasn't sure which. He _was_ sure that his heartfelt confession had done...well, _something_, but it hadn't completely broken whatever curse was upon his friend. So he took a deep breath, placed his right hand on William's shoulder, and closed the gap between their lips.

-----------

"Oh, look, Red. Floating pink, heart-shape bubbles." Warren noted with a curious look in his eyes. He reached up and popped one with his finger, watching in fascination as the one big bubble simply popped into smaller ones. Intriguing. "You don't see that every day."

Red, of course, saw them quite regularly, though certainly not every day. He nodded in agreement as he popped a bubble himself, smiling as he caught the scent of roses wafting out of it. It would seem that the plan was a success. It must mean that Cinder and William were together at last. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now all that was left to deal with were the sisters, but he could handle them tomorrow. Right now, though, he had more important things to worry about.

Like this sweet, charming man innocently popping bubbles next to him with a gentle smile playing on his lips. Red wished he could see the rest of Warren's face...from what he could tell of the man's strong, clean-shaven jaw, he must be quite handsome. He certainly had a nice enough mouth, and his eyes, shadowed as they were by his mask, looked to be a light brown. It was quite odd that he was wearing, of all things, a sheep costume...

"So what made you decide to come as a sheep?" Red asked, taking a sip of his punch.

Warren looked vaguely embarrassed. "I sort of waited until the last minute to get a costume...this is what was left. Although," he said, looking thoughtfully at Red, "Maybe it's not as hopeless as I'd first thought...I never expected to meet such an attractive shepherdess at an event like this," he said with a charming smile. Red smiled back, flushing slightly. "What about yourself? Where did you come up with that costume?" Warren asked, turning the question back at Red.

Red grimaced. "Truthfully...my friend made me wear it,"

"Oh?"

"Yeah...though I'm glad she did, now," he said, glancing flirtatiously at Warren, who beamed back.

"I don't suppose you'd care to dance with me for a bit?" he asked, offering a wool-covered arm.

"I would like that very much, actually," Red responded, accepting the escort.

It was late now, but that didn't mean that the dance floor was any less crowded. In fact, it was probably twice as packed with new acquaintances, old lovers, and older couples in each other's arms. The string orchestra played a soft waltz that stirred romantic thoughts. With the floating bubbles and smell of roses, the atmosphere was perfectly crafted for love to blossom.

And for once, Red got to be a part of it. How long had it been since he had last been held in the arms of another man? Probably ten years. He hadn't bothered with another boyfriend after Hunter, choosing to let himself be absorbed by work...whether it be baking and delivering pastries or rushing off to save some distant kingdom.

Shepherdess and sheep locked gaze as they danced across the floor that felt like it was cleared just for them (a trick of a rose- and romance-filled mind, for the party goers had merely started deserting the dance floor for more private activities) and Red had a sad realization that Warren probably just saw him as a pretty female face...as everyone else who didn't know him did. Warren had not once indicated he knew or suspected Red was male, acting as if he really were just a pretty girl he'd met at a masque.

He dreaded midnight, right then and there, as they twirled and spun to the beat of the music...step for step. A tradition with all masques was that all who stayed were to remove their masks at midnight and delight in being fooled by friends long known (or alternatively be horrorstruck when they realized who they had been with the entire night). Sure, he wouldn't look any different from any girl, but if Warren decided that he would like to spend more time with him, he'd eventually find out that he wasn't all he was cracked up to be, right?

Red sighed as experienced hands spun him capably.

"Am I such a bad dancer?" Warren asked, bringing the baker back into his arms. Red looked up at him with an expression akin to worry, and he decided to alleviate it a bit. "You know, where I come from, at New Years, you get to steal a kiss from a stranger when all the lights go out..."

Red smiled a little. "This isn't New Years. It's the middle of July."

Warren smirked. "Well, my birthday is coming up. How about an innocent kiss for an early birthday present?" he suggested, chuckling a bit as a bright pink blush spread across his dance partner's freckled cheeks. "You don't have to, of course." He added, in case the idea made Red too uncomfortable. The baker shook his head.

"No...no...I'd...like to...that is to say..." Red was floundering with his words. His heart was beating a hundred miles per hour and his stomach was doing a million flips per second. He cleared his throat and smiled at Warren . "Well, I...I'll...erm...kiss you." It was so embarrassing saying it like that. He felt like a fumbling teenager all over again.

The clock tower began to toll as midnight was coming to pass. People around them began shouting and cheering, ripping off masks left and right as the hour came. Red and Warren still had their masks, no longer dancing, but still in each other's arms as everyone around them celebrated with joy at the success of the masque.

Warren removed Red's mask slowly, reverently, then let it fall to the floor. His shadowed eyes studied the baker's face, intent on memorizing every freckle, every crease...every piece that made the other's face. His hands came up to cup Red's face as he lowered his own so their lips touched ever so softly.

They stayed like that for a while, until the clock tower struck twelve and they knew that the enchantment of their attraction had to end. But Red had spent so much of his life _breaking_ moments such as this that, this time, he'd rather indulge just a bit longer before he had to wreck everything. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Warren's neck, trying to deepen the kiss. A little surprised at first, Warren responded accordingly, shifting the positions of his hands so that they cradled the back of Red's head and the small of his back.

It occurred to Red's slightly muddled mind that he had just met Warren this evening. Yes, they had spent the entire time chatting and flirting, but what on earth was he doing _kissing_ him already? But still, he reflected as he finally pulled away, tugging at the man's mask as he did so, he felt so comfortable, so _safe_ with him, it was as though he'd known him for years...

The mask slipped off, and Red was left staring into a _very_ familiar pair of amber eyes.

He blinked.

'Warren' blinked.

Red gaped and pulled away, pointing a shaking finger at the man who was watching him anxiously.

"Wolf!" he managed to get out, shaking his head disbelievingly.

"Um...yes?" the man seemed uncharacteristically meek, his usual smirks and carefree attitude completely absent.

Red just shook his head again, turned, and fled the dance floor. Wolf tried to follow, but Red was too quick, and had lost himself in the crowd almost as soon as he entered it.

He couldn't believe it! He'd just spent an entire evening flirting away obliviously with Wolf! _Wolf!_ The man he disliked above any other! He'd been so charming and amiable, so polite and witty, Red had never suspected! And he'd flirted back! And even _kissed_ him! He groaned as he tried to make his way to the entry-hall as quickly as possible, unheeding of the people he shoved aside in his desperation to get away.

---------

"Cinder! We need to go!"

Cinder was pulled both abruptly back to the present and rudely away from William by Arachne, who was tugging insistently on is arm.

"Arachne! I'm busy!"

"I can see that! But you did what you needed to do, and now we need to go! Hurry up!" Pulling even harder than before, the seamstress tugged Cinder completely away from William and began dragging him after her. Cinder was only able to catch a glimpse of William's face before he was pulled completely away from the balcony and back into the ballroom proper. His friend was staring after him with a curiously blank expression on his face, and Cinder felt his stomach twist. It hadn't worked.

Then he had no time to think, as he was forced to concentrate on keeping his feet in his dainty glass slippers as Arachne pulled him relentlessly through the crowd towards the entry hall.

"Arachne! Cinder!"

Both heads turned as one towards the voice of a very irate Red Reaper as he pushed, shoved and stomped his way through the masquerade crowd. The man's face was as red as the cloak he usually wore, and both of his friends ('Friends? I suppose we are now,' Cinder mused to himself.) wondered what had happened to make it so. Surely it wasn't from anything pleasant, as his face was twisted into an expression of barely contained rage. Arachne and Cinder barely missed being bowled over in Red's fury as he walked past them.

"What's gotten your knickers in a twist?" Arachne asked, looking annoyed herself as she began to tug Cinder out into the entry hall--just barely in time to get away from an overly enthusiastic masquerader who decided that dropping a chandelier in the middle of the hall, while completely piss drunk and singing off key, was a good thing.

"Nothing." He growled. "Where's Lord Heart?" he added.

"He wasn't with--ow, Arachne--you?" Cinder inquired, almost tripping in their haste to get out. Red growled something in reply as he quickly set about looking for the noble so they could all leave for town posthaste.

As this went on, Cinder's mind went back to think about William and how he had absolutely failed to break him from his sisters' enchantment (if the blank look on his face was anything to tell from). It made his insides twist horribly and he felt nauseated. All that they had worked towards to had been naught. The next time he saw William would be at family reunions as his brother-in-law. Considering his newly discovered feelings for his friend, he was not looking forward to it.

And all this had occurred because something inexplicable had come over his younger siblings. What was to happen to them now? Would they stay like this forever? Wasn't there a way of breaking whatever spell was on _them_? But things looked entirely hopeless. Tempus was doomed.

While the three were lost in their separate thoughts (Red with doom-ful thoughts aimed at Wolf; Cinder with his very doom-ful thoughts for all of Tempus and Arachne with thoughts of imminent doom for her male friends should they be very late in returning to the shop), something else was taking place elsewhere within Tempus Manor's great halls. Marie and Susan had retreated into the privacy of one of the guest rooms, tittering to themselves about the events of the night, sure in their victory over the crown prince.

"Oh, he loves you, so much Marie." Susan sighed, brushing her sister's long locks of hair.

"Oh, no, no, no, no! I'm most definitely sure that he loves _you_, Susan. You're so beautiful and everyone just _adores_ you." Marie said, unable to keep still.

"But your singing is just divine!" Susan countered. "And no one is like you."

"But your love of the arts and all things beautiful and free is what'll get the prince to propose to you." Marie replied with a dreamy sigh and a clasp of her hands over her ample bosom. "I envy you, Susan." She added, turning to look soulfully at her sister. Susan gasped lightly in surprise, putting her hands over Marie's.

"Oh, no, the one who is envious is I."

"Don't be silly. I'm the one who is envious."

"_You're_ being silly. I am most definitely envious of you!"

"Are not!"

"Are, too!"

"Are not!"

"Are, _too_!"

What had started off as nice conversation quickly escalated into a terrible fight between the sisters, fighting over--of all things--who was more jealous of the other. As they were sitting on the bed, they found weapons with which to fight the other. Feathers went flying every which way as the girls squealed, shouted and whacked with abandon. This went on for some minutes until they were abruptly halted by a very stern voice.

"That is quite enough girls," said the voice. "I think we've all had enough of your antics...it's time to end this experiment." A figure in a cloak stepped into the room then, face hidden in shadows of a cowl. The girls blinked blankly at him, before letting out a unified shriek.

"No! No, no, no! Not when we're so close!" Marie screamed.

Susan, eager to add her own opinion, yelled, "You can't do anything to us! William will--"

"_William_," the man said calmly, "will have nothing to do with you when I'm through." He slowly strode forward, a movement somehow so menacing even the two highly enchanted girls shivered and whimpered pathetically. Before either one of the girls could move he moved quickly to grasp their thin necks in his hands. Marie and Susan struggled against his grip, but to no avail.

"You...you...you monster!" Marie whimpered.

"How dare you destroy our dream!" Susan accused.

The man chuckled. "Such silly little dolls you are." He said, his voice silky smooth. "Who said you were allowed to have dreams?" His expression was very grim now as he took in the faces of the two girls whose fates were now in his hands.

"Such pathetic failures." He murmured. "But at least I gained something from this experience." The girls cringed as he laughed a deep, low laugh, void of any true mirth, its almost haunting and hollow sound filling their ears.

"Good-bye my beautiful dolls. I won't be needing you anymore. You have served your purpose."

Their screams echoed far into the night.

-------

Arachne, meanwhile, had commandeered Lord Heart's carriage ("I'm sure he'll understand when you apologize to him for me, Red," she had said as she shoved both her friends inside) and gotten them on their way. They were going to be so late! And on top of that, how would her handsome customer react to the sight of his commissioned dress being worn by some stranger? Surely he would be at the shop by now, waiting impatiently for his frock...Ooh, things were not looking good.

The atmosphere in the carriage was incredibly tense when the three young people piled out of it some thirty minutes later in front of Arachne's shop. There was a dim glow coming from within; Arachnia's preferred type of lighting. Red was still angry at being tricked, Cinder was still depressed and upset about the imminent doom of both his kingdom and William's (and his, incidentally) love life, and Arachne was just plain worried that she wasn't going to get paid for her hard work (aka the dress that Cinder was currently wearing).

"Ah, here they are at last, my good sir and lady," Arachnia's dry voice drifted over to the group as they entered the shop. Arachne quietly took Cinder by the arm and marched him straight into the changing room, leaving Red alone with Arachnia and the two strangers.

The couple regarded him with pleasant smiles, and he stared stonily back. He was in no mood to even pretend to be pleasant. Even so, he couldn't help but notice that the man Arachne had swooned over earlier that day _was_ incredibly handsome; he was clean-shaven and wore his black hair short, excepting for long bangs which swept elegantly over his forehead and just slightly into his eyes. His features had a vaguely far Eastern cast to them, like something from a fairy story. He was taller than his companion by several inches, though she was by no means lacking in height herself.

As Red watched, she stood up on her toes and whispered something into the man's ear, which caused him to grin wickedly and waggle his eyebrows at Red. This earned him a thwap on the shoulder from his companion, who was hiding snickers of her own. Red turned away from them and stared intently at the wall paneling.

"My apologies, sir, for the delay," Arachne said at length, bustling out of the changing room with the white dress held carefully in her arms.

"Oh, don't worry about it," the woman answered, casting a sly glance at her companion. "It was quite a treat to see that handsome young man all dressed up. He looked very nice,"

"Mmm...it was a good fit, wasn't it?" the man agreed amiably, leaning casually against the counter as Arachne hung the dress on a hanger and began fitting a garment bag around it.

Arachne gave him a slightly odd look, but nodded. The man smiled widely, brightening up his already exotic looking face.

"Great!" he exclaimed. "So, how much do we owe you for the dress and suit?" It was business as usual from then, with the couple making their payment before leaving. Of course, they didn't leave very quietly. The woman (a very pretty brunette who wore her hair in long braid that could put Red's to shame) walked up to the baker and gave him a hug. The dark man just chuckled and gave him a small kiss on the cheek and a flirtatious wink, which, for some odd reason, made him angry more than flustered. Strange, really.

Red sighed as he took a seat on a foot stool, glad that everything was now over and done with, though he wondered how the issue of Cinder's sisters was going to be resolved. He couldn't just leave Tempus as it was, could he? Only time would tell and, at the moment, all he really wanted to do was go to bed...

"Arachne...can you help me take this dress off?" he asked, sounding tired and almost pitiful.

Outside, the couple smiled to each other as they carried their purchases down the street, hand in hand. The man was grinning widely, while his companion just smiled ever so pleasantly.

"All according to plan, angel?" the man said, his voice softening to a smooth alto.

The woman nodded. "Oh, yes, dear. All according to plan."


	13. Home

William was vaguely aware that he was at some sort of ball, and was also aware that he was a.) surrounded by simpering women and b.) simpering right back. He was enchanted by two of these young women particularly, and couldn't make up his mind which he liked more. They were both so beautiful and gracious, so talented and humble, so wonderful, so gentle...each was practically perfect in every way. He was also vaguely aware that something was _not on_, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was...nor could he summon up the energy to care. He was, as has been already stated, surrounded by beautiful women, so that was naturally all he ought to care about.

And it was all he _did_ care about, for a good portion of the evening...until _she_ claimed a dance.

He wasn't sure what it was about this particular young woman that set her apart from all the others; even apart from the beautiful Marie and the lovely Susan. Possibly her height, he mused as he lead her onto the dance floor, noting with a small sting to his pride that she was quite a few inches taller than he was. It could've been the size of her hands, which he could easily say were the largest set he'd ever seen on a female. It could also have to do with the fact that as soon as the music started up, she took off at once, attempting to lead.

"You know, usually it's the _man_ who leads during a dance," he heard himself say. The young woman flushed and immediately withdrew, allowing William to lead the dance from there on out. He regarded her icily. She stared without hesitation directly into his eyes, seemingly completely unfazed by his stony gaze.

"I hope you're not holding out hopes for a proposal," William said after a few uneventful turns about the dance floor. She regarded him with obvious surprise.

"I'm sorry?" her voice was quiet, and rather low. Something about it niggled at the back of his mind—it was such a familiar voice, he was sure he'd heard it somewhere before, but he couldn't figure out where.

"I said, I won't be asking you to marry me. You're too tall. Do you realize how ridiculous we'd look together at state and social functions?"

He was surprised when she gaped at him—that was not something he'd ever seen a woman do before. However, she quickly recovered her composure and apologized, explaining that had not been her intent when she had requested a dance.

_Why is her voice so familiar? _He asked himself as they lapsed back into silence for the remainder of the dance.

Once the music ended, he fled back into the adoring arms of dear Susan and Marie, and danced with them each as much as was polite to all the other young ladies waiting for a turn. Every once in a while, he caught sight of the tall damsel in white out of the corner of his eye, standing on the edge of the crowd, watching the dancing.

It was near midnight when both Marie and Susan abruptly disappeared to greet a friend, and William was left to entertain the rest of the ladies without them. He wasn't as happy about this as he thought he ought to be--after all, what man could be so ungrateful as to not fully appreciate the task of dancing attention upon multitudes of adoring, beautiful women?

It was then that she appeared again—shoving rudely through her smaller contemporaries, stepping on feet and elbowing stomachs in her drive to reach him. Leaning close to him, she placed one white-gloved hand appealingly on his arm and said,

"Excuse me, my lord, would you do me the great honor of joining me for a moment on the terrace? I have something I desperately need your advice on; only your advice will do,"

As she spoke, she stared imploringly into William's eyes. His first instinct was to refuse—who was she but a nameless acquaintance, after all, to ask him something so easily, and in such a personal way? And yet...

And yet...

Her voice, her hauntingly familiar voice, spoke to him even as her words did not.

He fought with himself for a moment, reason arguing with curiosity, but finally, curiosity won out. Perhaps if he talked with her more, he could figure out why her voice was so familiar, and then go back to dancing attention on Marie and Susan in peace...

He smirked and offered her his arm. "Of course, my lady," he said. He lead her out onto the terrace, which was surprisingly empty, and waited for her to speak. The mysterious woman took a deep breath, as though gathering her courage, turned to him, and removed her mask.

She was rather plain under the feathers, but her dark eyes were intense as they stared into his. He felt a stirring in the back of his mind, some long dormant thought fighting to wake up at the sight of her face. She was so familiar! Where had he seen her before?

He didn't allow any of his thoughts to show on his face, instead waiting for her to speak.

"William," she said, leaning much closer to the prince than he was comfortable with. He remained silent, however, and waited for her to continue. "I need to get this off my chest, but I'm not sure how to say it..." she trailed off, staring once more into his eyes, her expression forlorn, lost.

For some reason, seeing her look like that caused a thrill of concern to race through William's stomach, and he frowned in irritation. Why was this woman causing him to have such odd feelings?

Apparently alarmed by his expression, she hurried on, "I want you to know...if you want to run away with me, I'll go. I won't dance around the issue any more: I love you, and if you'll have me, I won't argue."

William felt as though his heart had suddenly stopped beating. He knew her, he _knew_ her, but from where? Why was his mind so cloudy, so messed up? Why couldn't he call to mind a name to go with that face, with those eyes, with that _voice_, that voice that was driving him insane as he tried to think--

As he frantically tried to _remember_, because she obviously knew him, and he _knew_ he knew her, she placed her hand on his left shoulder, leaned down slightly, and kissed him.

The instant their lips met, he remembered.

Cinder.

Not a woman at all, but a man, dressed as one.

Cinder had come to the ball, had somehow gotten in, dressed as a woman.

Cinder was here, at the ball.

Cinder had just said that he would run away with him, if he'd asked. He had just told him the one thing he'd wanted above all else to hear for many years; Cinder had just told him that he loved him. And...

Cinder was kissing him.

Cinder was _kissing_ him.

Cinder was kissing _him_.

Just as it occurred to William that he ought to start kissing back, a voice cut in and strong hands pulled Cinder away.

"Cinder! We need to go!"

"Arachne! I'm busy!"

"I can see that! But you did what you needed to do, and now we need to go! Hurry up!"

William caught sight of a lime green-haired Elf Queen pulling Cinder away from him, and he stared after the strange apparition, and more specifically Cinder, face blank. Cinder's retreating face was a mask of despair, staring back at him, and it tore at William's heart. Before he could even take a step after him, however, Cinder was gone, tugged away and back into the crowd.

Alarmed, William followed. His mind was surprisingly clear—surprisingly, because he hadn't properly realized before now how muddled and cloudy it had been. Ever since he had first encountered..._them_...in Cinder's glass shop, he'd been...under a spell.

"Prince William!"

"There he is!"

"Prince William!"

An enormous crowd of women converged as one when they spotted him, crowding around him a flock of silk, brocade, and velvet birds, blocking his progress. Still feeling the shock of Cinder's confession, he didn't snap at them as he would have normally, only stared at the retreating white gown which clothed his beloved peasant.

Well...he would just have to chase him in another way. It wasn't as if he didn't know where Cinder lived, after all.

----

After discarding his...'ball costume', he would call it (and throwing it in the freshly lit fireplace in his bedroom), William donned a simple outfit of black trousers and tunic, along with a pair of black boots and matching cloak, and snuck out of the manor. Let his subordinates handle the rest of the ball. The cloudy memories of dance after dance pressed against various soft female bodies turned his stomach, and he had no desire to repeat the experience ever again.

William slipped into the stables and picked out a black mare, just to continue with his sneak-thief theme. He was planning a burgling operation, of sorts, so he figured he might as well. Smiling sardonically at himself, he quickly saddled and mounted the horse and kicked her into motion.

The cool midnight air felt wonderful against his face as he encouraged the mare into a faster gallop. There was silence all around him except for the pounding of the horse's hooves and the sound of his own rather rapid breath.

Cinder's country estate was to the south of the city, but the miles passed quickly on the roads, and he was there almost before he realized how far he had come. The house was dark, so he walked the mare for a while to cool her down, then settled her in the stable after giving her a cursory rubdown with a fistful of straw.

That done, he stared up at the dark, slightly imposing manor and tried to remember how he'd snuck in the last time he'd visited Cinder in his room. It had been several years since he'd been able to get away so completely, so his memory was a bit rusty.

After a few moments, however, he found the woodpile which he climbed to get up on top of the kitchen roof. From there, he made his way to the lowest eve around the side of the house and pulled himself up, straining a bit; it had been a while since he'd done anything this strenuous. After a few moments struggle, though, he pulled himself up to the next level and lay on his stomach for a moment, willing the feeling back into his finger-tips and arms.

After a minute or so, he felt ready to continue on upward...all the way to Cinder's attic-room window, which he could see from his current position. It was propped open with a block of wood—a stroke of luck for Will.

After several more minutes and one slightly scary moment when he slipped on a patch of damp roof tiles, William lay triumphantly, panting slightly, in the middle of Cinder's narrow bed. In the dark, he couldn't see much of the room, but it still felt the same. Small, cramped, warm, and incredibly...homey. William plumped the rather flat pillow and propped it against the wall so that he could lean against it while watching the bedroom door.

He was just nodding off when he heard the slow, heavy clomping of Cinder's boots on the stairs outside the room. Jerking into wakefulness, he withdrew as far as he could into the hood of his cloak, hiding his pale hair and skin in a mask of shadows.

The bedroom door creaked open, and William could just make out the dark shadow of Cinder against the darker shadows of the hall. Why hadn't he brought a candle...?

Cinder trudged over to his bed and seated himself on the end, shoulders slumped. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Not sure whether to be alarmed or amused, William watched in silence, looking at the shadow of Cinder's broad back.

It was completely quiet for several minutes, before the silence was broken by a loud sob. William stared at the black shape that was Cinder in astonishment as the sob was followed by a sniffle and indecipherable mutterings.

Figuring that he'd better not wait any longer, William deliberately pushed off his hood and leaned forward slightly, causing the bed to creak. Cinder started and whirled around; all William could see of him in the dark were the whites of his eyes.

"I know I didn't react all that well at the ball, but certainly that's no cause for you to run home sobbing, is it?" he asked leaning forward in an attempt to better see Cinder's face. From what he could tell, the other man was gaping, slack jawed.

"What's this? I come all the way to see you and you have nothing to say?" William teased, leaning closer still. He could see the shiny, damp trail of tears tracing twin trails down Cinder's cheeks, and wondered why he was crying. He didn't really think that the other man was sobbing his eyes out over _him_; he knew there must be some other reason for it.

"...Will?" Cinder finally managed to get out.

"Yes?" William responded with exaggerated patience.

"Will...Margaret...is dead."

William blinked. Cinder's words didn't seem to want to lodge in his brain properly. Cinder's stepmother couldn't be dead. Yes, he recalled with a slight shudder Marie mentioning something about her mother being _sick_, oh the woe and tragedy, but he'd never thought...

...Well, it didn't matter what he _thought._ His friend was upset, and that was his concern at the moment.

"Oh, Cinder," he said softly, reaching out to his friend and pulling him into his arms, something he'd wanted to do so many times over the years. He was a little surprised when Cinder nearly squeezed the breath out of him returning the embrace, burying his face in the crook of William's neck. William smiled slightly as he breathed in the scent of his beloved peasant. He could smell some lingering girly perfume, but under that was the faint scent of iron and sweat, just as he remembered.

They stayed like that for a long time, with Cinder sniffing occasionally and William gently rubbing his back.

"It's just so...unexpected," Cinder said when he finally pulled away. "I knew she was sick, and I haven't seen her all month, but still! She's just..." he trailed off, wiping his eyes and sliding his glasses back onto his face, as he'd taken them off to hug William. He was silent for a moment, staring at his lap, and then his head shot up and he stared at William.

"Will! What are you doing here? I thought..."

Despite himself, William laughed. Scooting forward and dropping his feet to the floor, he sat on the edge of the bed right next to Cinder, pressing his thigh against the glass smith's. For good measure, he took one of Cinder's hands in his, lacing his fingers through Cinder's and squeezing gently.

"You saved me, Cinder," he said quietly, staring at the shadow of their joined hands. "If it weren't for you, I...would've done something awful. And I don't think I would have ever regretted it. I was like...a completely different person. I wasn't _me,_ and I didn't care! I could tell something was wrong, but I didn't care! And..." he trailed off, aware that he was rambling, and angry at himself for it. This wasn't like him. He'd only just gotten back in control of himself, and he was already losing it...in front of Cinder, no less. He expected Cinder to make a smart-ass remark, but the other man simply sat there by his side, holding his hand, and listening patiently, waiting for him to continue.

They sat in silence for a long time, legs pressed together and fingers entwined. Finally, William spoke again.

"Did you really mean it when you said you'd run away with me if I asked?"

He expected Cinder to pause, to hesitate; he half expected the man to deny that he'd ever said such a thing in the first place. He was surprised when Cinder responded immediately.

"I really did."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Alright then. Will you run away with me?"

"When do you want to leave?"

William could have laughed. How had this happened? How had his best friend, who he had been pining over for nearly as long as he had known him, come to return his feelings? There must be some higher power out there, watching over him, helping him along. There was no other explanation that William could think of.

"Right now," he said. "Let's go right now."

"Alright."

This time, William did laugh. He hopped to his feet, pulling Cinder up after him, and twined his free arm around the man's waist, pulling him close. He frowned momentarily when he realized that his friend was still slightly taller than him, even without ladies' slippers, but waved the thought aside as he leaned up and kissed Cinder.

Cinder returned the kiss eagerly, bringing up one hand to cup William's jaw, and freeing his other from William's grip to wrap around his waist and draw him closer still, pressing their bodies together from knee to chest. William wrapped his free arm over Cinder's and around his back, gripping his shoulder. The kiss deepened, though whether by his own or Cinder's efforts, William didn't know. He was aware of the sensation of heat deep in his belly, a pleasant warmth that soon spread to other places.

Without breaking the kiss, he nudged Cinder into sitting back down on the bed, following the other man's movements closely and straddling his lap once he was sitting so as to continue kissing him.

When he pushed him down flat on his back, William half expected Cinder to break away and ask him what the hell he was doing. Instead, he snorted in amusement and rolled over so that it was _he_ who was laying on top of Will.

"What are you doing, peasant?" William growled, narrowing his eyes. In the dark, he could still see Cinder smile pleasantly.

"This," his friend responded, and did something to Will with one of his hands that shocked all protests out of the prince's mind.

-----------

The sky was just beginning to lighten with pre-dawn grey when Cinder and William left the house and crossed the yard to the stable, where they saddled and mounted their horses. In the misty chill of the early morning, the two rode off, side by side, without looking back.

-------------

"What? You're kidding me!" Arachne said, surprise evident on her face. Red sighed in irritation, because the volume of her voice was much too high for his pounding brain to endure. He hadn't slept a wink last night for the fact that subconscious guilt kept gnawing at his mind whenever he'd let his head touch the pillow. So he had stayed up the night to go and rectify the problems that were the Montblanc sisters. "Both girls--completely changed?"

Red, who was nursing a hot cup of camomile tea to ease his nerves, nodded numbly at the woman. "Yes. _Totally_ transformed...I hadn't recognized them until they told me that they were Susan and Marie Montblanc," he said, frowning quite a bit.

"But...they also told you that they didn't remember a thing of the last few months." Arachne pointed out, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. She had made a small fortune for the shop, helped a man win his true love, and saved the kingdom from total ruin--she deserved to indulge herself after such a stressful night. "That's a little hard to believe, don't you think?"

Red scoffed into his tea. "Tell me about it. Then again, their crying and cluelessness was so convincing I had to believe them." He paused. "That and it shut them up long enough for me to figure out what to do with them."

For all intents and purposes, the baker had sought out the two girls, expecting them to be still enchanted or what have you, either clinging onto some poor sod who didn't have the sense to get away or primping themselves, and try to set them straight somehow. Instead, he'd spent most of the night wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out where the girls had wandered off to (he'd checked all parts of the town and its outskirts--and that included quite a bit of the surrounding forests) only to find them lost, scared and in a very fragile state outside Tempus Manor. When they heard him calling out their names (he'd been rather desperate at the time since quietly searching had proved fruitless) when he'd swung by the manor, they had rushed towards him as if he were a lifeline--clinging onto his clothes for all they were worth.

It had been pretty difficult handling the girls. Red had had a _lovely_ time trying to sort the girls out as they demanded of him what was going on, where they were and how they had gotten there--when they weren't wailing, of course. Apparently the loud, shrieking, harpy like voices had _not_ been a side effect of the spell they had been under, so Red had been treated to a cacophony of woe for about a half hour (and beyond that, still). After that, he'd set about taking the girls home and found--much to his chagrin--even more tragedy and woe when Marie and Susan had discovered themselves completely abandoned. This led to much more crying, awkward moments, and a migraine that had gotten worse with every second.

Sometimes Red just wished he was a _total_ bastard instead of just a _selfish_ bastard. At least, if he were a total bastard, there would be no redeeming qualities about him at all and he could have gone on with his life without batting an eye at the girls and their rather terrible circumstances. But, as things often were, he was merely an irritable little mortal who did things because his conscience told him to do it and wouldn't leave him alone until he did it. It was like a cricket you heard chirping at night really loudly and no matter how hard you tried to block out the sound--you couldn't get rid of it.

After promising them that someone would come to take care of them, he convinced the girls to get some sleep so he could trudge dutifully back to his comfy couch for some well-earned sleep...

...only to realize that it was morning and he had to go early to the market to shop for breakfast.

And that was how he'd ended up at the kitchen table of Arachnia and Arachne, Seamstresses, with a huge headache the size of the moon, weary and tired with dark circles under his eyes. His mood had already been very foul since he had learned who 'Warren' really was, and his sleep depravation had made it much worse.

At least he had tea.

"I wonder...how _did_ they change back?" the seamstress mused, absently twirling a lock of her lime green hair around a long finger.

Re shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, Arachne." He told her, looking perplexed himself. It was a very good question. He was quite sure that most sane men wouldn't have touched the girls with a ten foot pole and that the ones under their spell had become so mindless that they couldn't breathe without the girls telling them to, so the spell hadn't been broken, in the usual way. And the possibility that whatever enchantment they had been under had simply worn off didn't sit well with him. Something _had_ to have happened...

"Yeowch!"

"Red! Are you alright?"

The baker nodded, waving a hand dismissively as he held his head with the other.

Or maybe, _just maybe_, he was being paranoid and thinking too much.

They didn't speak of the matter anymore as there wasn't much left to say except for speculations, and neither was in the mood to listen to or make those. Instead, they quietly enjoyed breakfast together passing the butter, scrambling over who got the last piece of bacon--just normal things, as if they hadn't helped to save the relationship of two people and, consequently, the safety of an entire kingdom. She moved to clear up the table and he went to help her do the dishes. Side by side they soaped, rinsed and towelled off, falling quickly into an efficient routine that left them room to speak to one another.

"..."

"..."

Not that they did, but had they wanted to, they could have made some sort of conversation about the weather or the latest jousting contest or archery tournament (which would have, admittedly, brought them to think of Cinder and speculate on how he was faring now that all was said and done, but if they did it would lead to even more awkward topics and neither of them wanted _that_).

Time passed by quickly with the two alternatively doing errand work or work inside the shop, putting things back into their proper place, receiving rented costumes and setting them aside to be properly cleaned. Both were keeping themselves busy, not wanting to have to say good-bye...for what was there left for Red in Tempus now that his chores were done? He had a life to get back to.

But the time for farewells was drawing near, and Red couldn't find something to do that could keep him inside the shop much longer. As much as he had dreaded Arachne's company two weeks ago, he had made his peace with the woman and was now quite comfortable in her presence. Even so, it was time to hit the road and head back to his cottage in the Fluffy Forest of Forbidden Fruits. He was already groaning at the name in horrible anticipation. Hopefully he wouldn't meet up with the forest's dreadfully sweet and well-mannered demon guardian on his way in, because he wasn't in any mood to deal with anything even _remotely_ magical for a while yet.

After a nice late lunch filled with sweets Red had spent half a morning baking, he put on his cheerful trademark red cloak, swirling it with a flourish before fastening it around his neck with care. Arachne escorted him from the shop and down a good distance towards the outskirts of town, with the seamstress talking about this and that. She didn't want to have to say good-bye herself, but if she was going to have to, she'd make the most of the time they had left by talking his ear off.

"You remember to write, you hear Red?" Arachne said, hands clasped behind her back as she walked with the younger man. Red nodded, but knew he'd probably neglect to do so when he restarted his daily routine of running a bakery again. He was sure he had a lot of lost time to make up for. A visit to Wonderland and its schizophrenic ruler was in order after he was settled at home good and proper.

"I'll do my best Arachne." He said. "You find yourself a nice guy, alright?"

She grinned. "I'll do my best." She said, echoing his words. The both of them laughed a little while, then fell back into companionable silence. They kept going like that until Arachne had to stop, saying that the very edge of town was as far as she could go. Before the comfortable silence turned into something awkward, she enveloped Red in a hug that he returned rather fiercely. It was a little out of character for him, but humans tend to be spontaneous every once in a while.

"Bye, Arachne," he breathed.

"Be seeing you around, Red." Arachne replied.

And that was that. With one final squeeze, smiles of encouragement, and a wave of their hands, the two parted ways. Red faced the world outside of Tempus and took a deep breath before taking the first step on his journey back home.

His mind wandered down memory lane as he traveled the roads towards Baker Town and his forest home beyond it. He remembered the annoying princess (who had really been an annoying prince) and her three fairy godmothers, and the time they spent together. He grinned as he passed the spot where he thought Robin Hood and his Merry Men had robbed him and the others while riding towards Tempus. He remembered how angry and desperate he had been in the afternoon following to get his basket with its precious cargo back so he could fulfill a terrible prophecy (and was reminded how he'd ended up losing the basket anyways at Wicked's castle later on).

He walked through the Sleeping Forest carefully, wondering if he could, per chance, meet up with a friendly face or maybe just a familiar one. He didn't think he could face his grandmother for a while, yet. Even if he hadn't seen her in some weeks--he did have an ongoing promise to visit her every week to do some chores around her house or to just spend time with her, after all--he wouldn't be able to get the thought of an otherwise sweet little old woman slipping him a condom out of his head for quite some time.

He passed by Hunter's cabin without seeing the man. He was most likely off taking care of the forest--or at least keeping the unwary traveller from getting lost. Maybe even helping a damsel in distress somewhere. The thought of his ex-boyfriend finding a nice, normal girlfriend to fawn over both made him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, while also making him want to be violently ill and wildly jealous at the same time.

He passed by the gates to Wonderland, noting with a worried expression that more than one soldier now guarded the entrance. They knew who he was, of course, and had actually been present during the whole spectacle involving himself and Wolf, so Red had to move quickly, while blushing a bright cherry red when they asked how the baby was coming along and if they could feel it kick.

Wolf. Now that was a person he wished he didn't need to think about. What a strange man!

At first glance (or ten-year long stare, if one wanted to argue technicalities), the silver haired man was simply just a scruffy, dirty minded stalker who just didn't know when to quit. And then he became a sort of quiet hero who stood off to the side, hiding in the shadows waiting for when Red needed to be saved. And after that, he switched to a sweet, gentle, almost normal man of whom he had wanted to spend more time with, back at the Masquerade when he hadn't realized who he was. All of these images clashed horribly with one another. Who was the real Wolf? What did he care anyways? Why did he do the things he did?

"_Like you, dear Red, he doesn't have a fairy godmother, and he's destined to continually stumble into his True Love's arms all the time, though he has no clue it's happening._"

Red stopped as Love's words suddenly--out of the blue--passed through his mind. He shook his head in disbelief as one thought connected with another to link up as one. No, it couldn't be what he thought it was...could it? The man was a plain old stalker...albeit a nice one when he wanted to be...Downright heroic if he checked...

The baker looked around him, wondering where Wolf was right now. It was three times now that he had spurned the man. Once in his youth, once after he had saved him from Wicked and the last time at the ball (at least he hadn't hit him with anything that time). He couldn't see the man anywhere, but at the moment, there wasn't much place to hide. Red felt a little disappointed when he realized the man in black leather wasn't around, but continued on ahead.

But then, he saw the strangest thing sitting ever so innocently near the next bend in the road. He thought he was imagining it, but there it was...his basket, in one piece, atop a boulder with a note attached to its lid. Not stopping to check its contents or if it was booby-trapped, he ripped off the note to read it.

_A precious item retrieved and a gift freely given._

_Love,_

_Wolf_

Red wondered what he could mean by a 'gift freely given' and opened the basket. The food left inside had been thrown out and the inside of the basket smelt faintly of lemon. Whatever else that wasn't disposable had been left in place, but that wasn't what had caught his eye. Reaching inside he carefully pulled out a little doll--an effigy of the scruffy man who had been chasing after him for ten years...in angel form (albeit, still in black leather).

The baker didn't know whether he should chuck the doll into a ditch or start chuckling as hysteria began to take over. Instead, he quickly shook his head and remained calm as he glanced around again for any sign of Wolf. Not that it would do any good, he admitted to himself. If the man was hiding, (something he was very good at, Red had noticed), then he wouldn't be able to see him unless that was what Wolf wanted. He could also have gone on ahead of him...Either was possible, and, either way, he wasn't around that Red could tell.

Still, he put the doll back into his basket and hung it in the crook of his elbow as he made his way home again in relative peace, an odd feeling of safety following him. When he got home, he found another note waiting there for him on the door. It made him smile somewhat. Even if the sender wasn't around anymore (and he had good reason not to be as Red knew that Wolf wasn't the skipping and frolicking sort), he knew he was watching.

With that in mind, Red felt both relieved and had the urge to shake his fist in the air.

To the amusement of the Higher Powers, Ironic Overpowers, and a certain wolf watching from the shadows, he held his hand up and did just that.

-(End Book I)-

Kiwi's notes: Well! This was quite an adventure, wasn't it? Don't worry, my dears, we're not done with Red and Wolf yet. They might take a small break, however, because yours truly has made the very silly decision to study abroad this upcoming fall term. That's right, I'm making a pilgrimage to the Gaming Mecca of the World (aka Japan), and will be studying like a madwoman as I attempt to make heads or tails of the spoken Japanese language. I'm fairly sure we'll be able to continue writing, but not at the pace we've been going for these past few chapters; that was an extra special effort we made in an attempt to finish the 'Cinderella' arc before I took off for foreign lands.

Anyway, that's about all I've got to say. I now turn this little Author's Note over to Apple, who has many things she'd like to say to you as well, I'm sure. Ciao: )

Apple's Note: Excuse me as I scream for about a good twenty minutes, go to the Muffled Weeping Corner and then toss myself off the Jacque-Cartier bridge. sniffle I miss my Kiwi already. Why? Why must we be separated! Whhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Pourquoi!

I miss you already, Kiwi. I'm only half as awesome without you. is heartbroken 

clears throat Alright, now that I've gotten THAT out of my system, I would like to thank everyone that helped make this story possible. They being the Brothers Grimm (who are most likely spin cycling in their graves), Disney (because—lets face it—we grew up watching them), people at the PPC boards who were interested enough to join the forum to add their opinions (Props for Rez!), the fans (where would we be without you guys supporting us?) and my dearest angelic partner (who should REALLY get that halo of her's fixed), who is the coolest person in the entire world. hugs her 

goes back to sniffling pathetically, tries to trudge on without crying 

Now, as stated, we are NOT done with Red and Wolf. Not at all. XD In fact, we've planned so far ahead that you guys will be enjoying 'Little Red's Fairy Tales' for a loooooooong while yet (unless something happens to separate Kiwi and I further…like an earthquake in Tokyo which sends her into intensive care…or worse). And, at the moment, we are planning out the first chapter of book two as we speak. nod nod BUT! While you guys wait for the wonderful Book Two to be started…I have several side stories that I will be writing for you guys. And guess what? You get to choose which one you want to read first!

The choices are as follows:

One Card Short of a Full Deck 

This is a story about the royal family of Wonderland, or just Wonderland in general. It ideals with—_specifically_--Fourteen and his life. Fourteen chapters, a prologue and an epilogue. Yes, it DOES explain how he met Red.

Angel and Demon 

This story happens to be about how the Ironic Overpowers came to be and reveals quite a few things about what they did before they decided that meddling in the affairs of mortals in a fairy tale realm is a good idea. This is a three-shot.

The Talk 

This is a one-shot where King Bartolby is set with the task of giving innocent little Briar Rose the Talk when s/he comes in to complain that s/he isn't…er…like other little girls.

Have fun choosing! Also! We will have a special chapter for this book made just for you guys! What is it? Well! It's a Q and A session with the Ironic Overpowers, of course! Ask us any question you like and we'll do our very best to answer them in an interview/flashback story format. Sound fun and fair? Good!

On a random side note, I decided (with Kiwi agreeing) that we should try to get published. Not professionally, though, but copies of Book One _will_ be available for sale on the net if anyone is interested (then again, we want paper back copies ourselves, so we don't care either way). All we have to do is get the story polished/editted properly and I just have to get off of my lazy bum to design the cover for the book…as well as illustrations that will be EXCLUSIVE (in other words: NOT POSTED ON THE NET) to it. This includes a 10+ page comic before the first chapter begins. Another exclusive feature to the book is that it will contain the MISSING EXPLICIT SMUT SCENE between Cinder and William that we decided to leave out so we could retain our 'Teen' rating on the site. Heh.

sighs I think that is about it. Should you require updates on the state of things…either head to our web site's forum or a livejournal that I will eventually make. Both links will be in our bio.

And so…I sign off for now. Thank you everyone!


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